Lost Time
by Oddball-no.2
Summary: Hogwarts was burned to the ground while Harry and co. were left to fend for themselves. What none of them expected was a second chance to make up for lost time. A.U. NonHBP Compliant.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer – The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership.

Lost time.

Chapter One

He was cornered, there was no way out and there was no chance of help coming. The fact that Harry knew this was irrelevant and didn't change his behaviour in the slightest. Being the stupid Gryffindor he'd been made into practically since birth he was fighting to the bitter end, for that was what it truly was, a bitter end.

This war had been lost from the moment he and his friends had left Hogwarts after their sixth year. With the children gone and defences at their lowest, Voldemort had seen this as the perfect opportunity to kill the hope that was Hogwarts. Needless to say all the teachers, House-Elves and various magical creatures of the forbidden forest had been slaughtered.

With the death of Hogwarts, Muggle-born witches and wizards no longer were recorded by the entry books into magical education. With no more Muggle-born children in five years no one could even tell what all the fighting was for. Without Albus Dumbledore, the moral compass of the wizarding world, no one could build the resistance to fight against the dark.

By the summer of 2001 all of the magical community was apathetic to the pleas of half-bloods and Muggleborn for justice. No one cared. By February of 2002 the ministry and all of its resources had been seized by the 'political party' led by lord Voldemort. For that was what they were now calling themselves, a political party. Anyone with half a brain cell could see through that- but the wizarding world had long lost what few brain cells they had.

During all of this Harry, Hermione, Remus, Tonks, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George had been fleeing the Death Eaters. All of them were targeted for separate reasons (Half-blood, mud blood, half-breed, and blood traitors) but all had no other choices. Each had seen horrors during their times abroad, but now Harry was last.

Hermione had been struck down in December 1999 after valiantly running for three years flat out all over the continent and Britain. She'd been almost untraceable for most of that time, using the Muggle world against the Death Eaters. Her parents had been murdered in 1997, to get to Hermione, but it had only strengthened her resolve. She had become a skilled martial artist in less that one year and had used it tirelessly against her enemies, mixing in a magic unique to herself.

She died defending a small family with multiple bludgering curses to the head. To say this news had shocked the fugitive's was an understatement. They had all believed that with Hermione's skill she would be the last- but they all understood their days were numbered. No one could stop what was happening- even then.

Remus had been poisoned by Pettigrew's silver hand in November of 2000. He'd been the next to go. Cornered by Death Eater's on the full moon- while he was both strongest and weakest- they had left it to Pettigrew to deal with him while they restrained him. Peter had nervously approached and begun burning his hand into the werewolf flesh. This had been a grave mistake as in Remus' pained state he had lashed out and bitten Peter. Screaming in agony Peter had been killed by the silver in his own hand.

When news made it to the survivors of Remus' revenge- tear streaked faces had smiled bittersweet. Peter had died as he should have- his right hand a traitor to his flesh. The fact that Remus had died moments later was a testament to Remus' undying loyalty to his long dead friends. He had seen to avenging Lily and James deaths and Sirius' wrongful imprisonment, even in death.

In the years leading up to his death he had developed, with the help of a certain metamorphmagus, an ability coveted by all werewolves. For this Remus was truly the cream of the crop. He had become a Lycan, able to transform any part of his body to the wolf at will. He was still transformed under the moon, but his body, more acclimatised to the change, could handle the pain and his mind remained clear at all times.

This was revealed post-mortem by the afore mentioned metamorphmagus in a letter she sent to her fellow fugitives to show Remus' true ability and skill, a tribute if you will. She had been in love with Remus- and he with her- and took the blow harder than the others who felt this had been long in the coming. She had quickly joined Harry on his travels- seeking his quiet company.

The Weasley children, who were no longer children, suffered their first blow to the remaining family in March of 2001. Up until this point all of the red heads had been travelling together through lessor known parts of the world, the back roads; Tibet, the Orient and South America being their favoured hideouts.

Their parents had died to protect them in the Burrow, after Hogwarts fell, giving them the time to portkey out on a broom which had been designated for such a task. In the end Molly had died in her husbands arms in their room in the Burrow as the Death Eater's left and the Aurors arrived. Arthur had died shortly after of a broken heart. Ginny had never been the same, the only comfort she had left was a certain magical phoenix who had come to her after Albus' death.

In a little known forest somewhere in magical Japan the Death Eaters had caught them for the first time. And sadly it had been Ron to fail, to save his brothers and sister. He had sent them ahead, forcibly by magic, and fought to give them enough of a lead to ensure security; watching from the tree's Fawkes had been the only living person to survive Ron's final onslaught of magical energy- literally exploding with magic and crying out Hermione's name as he died. The Death Eaters hadn't stood a chance.

For a time the Weasley's were not found, but Tonks and Harry had been. Tonks didn't live through the encounter. July 2002 Tonks died of an overextension of magical power. She had madly flung herself into a storm of flying arms and legs, using her powers to turn herself into a living weapon of mass force and muscle as strong as steel. In her dying moments, with Death Eaters- or rather now Auror's- taken care of, she had done something that had burned itself into his mind forever. She had smiled. As she closed her eyes, almost peacefully, a howl was heard or maybe imagined and Tonks slipped away. Harry had never been the same. He quickly made contact with the living Weasley's and they disappeared.

Learning from those years the four of them, Harry, Fred, George and Ginny had become a tight knit family and trained themselves in ways they would otherwise wish they could not be. Wandless magic was used and exploited relentlessly, research into magic forged and powers widened and expanded. They had made themselves into killers to become survivors.

For a while they were not found, however this changed in the summer of 2003. The four were caught by 'Aurors' in Britain while using a certain circle of stones on the open downland of Salisbury Plain to extend their connections to the primal forces of magic. They luckily were able to complete the ritual while their pursuers were held off by heavy duty magical shields constructed for this purpose. Using the new powerful connections the quartet had managed an escape without permanent injury, barely.

Three years after Tonks' death, in December of 2005, the twins were captured and executed. During their capture their magic had had to be bound to leave them basically defenceless. Born in life together, together they had died.

Voldemort himself had killed them. Under the law of the pureblood regime, they were illegal fugitives and under Voldemort's rule capital punishment had been brought back. He had sentenced them, and then executed them in front of a congregation of countless Death Eaters, as was the new custom.

Ginny had screamed murder as their deaths had been publicised as a victory for the 'good guys'. She had literally charged into the new and 'reformed' ministry, cutting down an amazing 50 Auror's before finally committing suicide as she was about to be captured. Harry had cried himself to sleep that night with the trilling of the Phoenix as his only comfort.

The Phoenix had become his companion for another 2 years as they had conversed. It appeared that Fawkes could speak through telepathy, on a very basic level, to those he bonded to. They thought differently- so the words often didn't make sense to him. Slowly he'd begun to understand, but it had been slow. Fawkes had showed that he had seen Ron die, that last burst of magic, the primal scream.

Fawkes was able to show him things through the bond and he'd even been able to see the private moments before Albus took a final potion to incinerate his body and disallow his corpse and residual magic to be used. The pain that vial would cause him as he was eaten alive by fire from the inside out was ignored for the greater good. It was touching, and the look in the old mans eyes, courage and fear, stayed with him in his travels around the world.

It was as he was travelling in one of his more inconspicuous disguises, buying food as it were, in Italy that he heard the news of 2007. Voldemort had declared himself as the Magical Royal Monarch of Britain. There was uproar in France as the French Ministry of Magic had been promised that there would never again be a magical Monarch of Britain several centuries ago. This of course was course of action for Voldemort to start the process of taking it over. The French Minister of Magic didn't last a month.

Harry barely thought of these things anymore. He'd repressed it under layers upon layers of impenetrable Occlumency. However, as he fought to what would no doubt be his death he didn't repress it- it was what was giving him the will to fight these fledging wannabe servants to the dark lord. The howl in the distance as Tonk died, that primal scream of rage, a broken heart, that smile shared in Tonks' last moment, the need to protect someone who can't protect themselves, the loyalty of the marauders, the true ones, and finally the undying selflessness and willingness to sacrifice everything for the greater good.

Harry had just cut down his forty second Auror and for a moment believed that maybe this wasn't so impossible, as a man he dreaded entered the alley, Voldemort walked into the small dead end as if he owned it.

"Potter" Voldemort smirked, knowing this was over. It was a known fact that after numerous searches throughout the world, Voldemort now possessed the only known Philosophers Stone. Harry personally knew that Voldemort had infused it upon his person and that the Philosophers Stone now resided in his heart, bringing new meaning to a heart made of stone.

"Riddle" Harry spat. He wasn't so much as afraid of the man. Harry had long since come to the conclusion that he was living on borrowed time and now feared nothing. There wasn't enough time for it really. But he did hold a healthy caution for the mass murderer, a wariness of instinct which screamed he was bad news.

"As much as I'd love to banter- I've become tired of such practices. It is truly the act of a fledging Dark Lord."

"Wizened I see. Though only as much as possible for a megalomaniac."

"Uh-hu, well, shall we get this over with?"

"Whatever. I've been dead for longer than you'll ever understand." This just pissed the man off, as intended. For some reason death was a touchy subject for Tommy boy. Harry almost smirked.

"HA. I was dead for fourteen years, Potter! You talk of being dead! You bug, you insignificant child! _Crucio!_" And that was it, the end began in earnest. Stepping to the side of the Curcio Harry shot off spells as fast as he could, using both his hand and wand.

"_Diffindo! Abdulo! Pookimaunga! Silencio! Incendio!" _The slashing spell hit true. While his ridiculous sounding pain spell hit dead onto Voldemort, making him scream out in pain, the silencing spell stopped anyone other than himself from saying anything and therefore stopped most of them from actually using magic. Someone could always use wordless spells, which were harder to do, but most wouldn't even think of it.

Making an executive decision and feeling tired of this world and its inane need to destroy itself, Harry got down to his knees and began his ending. He had planned this out very carefully. One slip of the tongue and he'd lose the spell and that'd be it. It was a suicide spell, used in Japan with Western roots to honourably kill one's self and insure, as his Japanese contacts had said, a life after this one which was better. It had fallen out of use and wasn't as common, but did tend to pop up once in a while.

The first step was an oath. It wasn't word for word like other rituals- just a general idea and structure- allowing him to state it plainly in English. He began to speak: "I Harry James Potter of Noble birth and Honourable parentage do preserve that nobility and parentage with this oath of suicide" The bluish-white shield sprung up as it should, fed by the ambient magic around it, making it almost impenetrable. Harry took out a ritual dagger he'd bought in Germany for the final steps.

Runes on the ground marked out his parentage in a circle around him and he fed the spell a small amount to begin with. The idea was to use all of your magic so that any residual magic in you're corpse wouldn't be used later. Checking his rank, which he would need for the next phrase, he was shocked to see the mark of a thrice blessed Lord against the mark of what translated into a magical heir to 5 families. Ignoring the second part he waited for the signal. A locking sound rang through his ears, signalling the locking in of the oath and that the parentage had been checked as honourable, his birth in wedlock and therefore noble. He spoke the next phrase he'd devised with the added label as was applicable.

"I, the thrice blessed lord, do commit this oath in dire times and under duress. May this be the fulfilment of my honour, destiny and morals." The spell suddenly jerked away from him. He'd said something wrong. Looking up he saw shock in the eyes of the Death Eaters, none of them had planned on this, none of them at all. Suicide was so far away from modern western morals and the idea of Honour being understood amongst these low lifes was almost funny.

Looking at the Dark Lord he saw something close to respect. The expression was something so alien to the features that Harry almost didn't recognise it. The expression turned malicious as he smirked evilly. Harry was deeply offended that Voldemort would smirk at him while he was about to die. It got to him like it shouldn't have gotten to him. In his mind Harry saw this as the last straw, the final action which defined Voldemort as truly evil, a coward to his bones._'I hope he rots in his eternal body'_Harry thought cruelly.The spell jerked away from him again, shocking him out of his hate filled thoughts. Concentrating again on the task at hand,Harry waited for the signal. The spell's shield should have gone a darkish purple, mixing in red and black for blood and negative- but instead it turned a horrifying green.

Harry had no idea what _green _meant, maybe lime- but not this. He was so horrified that he didn't notice the runes shining brighter and brighter as more of his magic was bled off. If nothing had happened, it would have meant he wasn't under duress or the times weren't dire enough. If it had turned black, it would have been an absolution, showing his sins were forgiven, and he would have been given the all clear to end it. If it had turned white, it was another form of absolution, showing his deeds were worthy and he was spotless. Grey showed sin but it was still absolution. Red he could accept- he'd killed too many not to be damned. Lime showed he still had something to do with the introduction of yellow, and was not given permission to end it. But this green was unfathomable.

Looking at it he saw that it was in fact the exact shade of green as his eyes. There was also a metallic hue to it, though he had no idea what it meant. Swirls of black as well as white danced across the surface, entrancing him. The shield was still transparent and it was only because of this he snapped out of it. They were trying to break in!

Quickly he finished. "By the will of magic and the gods who are agreeable I accept the decision and do hereby end this life, with hopes for the next. May my noble heritage spur me on through the next life." The last touch of magic in his body left, the runes leaving the ground to surround Harry. In a ring of white light, that spun and twirled mysteriously. That much was normal. Harry slashed his wrists and dug the blade deep into his stomach, waiting for death now and then, the shield collapsed.

Harry at first thought this was Voldemort- but the look of shock and delight on the slimy Dark Lords face stopped that theory. Looking to the ground where the runes had been he saw the magic spreading out under the feet of the Death Eaters. Something in this ritual had gone terribly wrong and was completely out of his control now.

Screams echoed out as Death Eaters dropped to the ground in agony, Voldemort was soon overcome by the same sensation his followers were suffering from. Harry merely lowered his head, as was the last step in the ritual, ignoring them. Whatever happened now didn't matter. His blood was spilt and his magic was gone. Now matter if someone else interfered, it didn't matter, nothing did now.

He felt the tender brush of death and her release. It was liberating to the extreme. He felt no pain, just a release, which was unusual. The last step was supposed to be painful. A release was meant to be there, but it was a release brought on after the pain. He opened his eyes and stared.

His body was unmarked and lying on the ground. That wasn't the cause for his staring though. He could see magic and what he saw it doing was disturbing. As the Death Eaters rolled in pain he saw their magic flowing away from them, into a vortex of magic that was above his body. He was standing behind himself and next to him stood Ginny, Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.

They were all in their prime, beautiful tall and proud, and the sight made him want to cry. They were staring at the vortex over his body.

"Harry" A strange voice called. Not one of the others.

"Yes?"

"Take you're friends with you, they deserve this chance as much as you do."

"Who are you?"

"I'm death."

"Harry?" He turned to see Hermione speaking. Not thinking he ran forward and hugged her fiercely.

"I missed you so much, Hermione. Never leave me again." Harry felt Ginny at his ear as hugged Hermione tightly.

"I'm sorry I left you Harry" Ginny spoke into his ear in a whisper as Hermione and he hugged.

"I understand. I truly do, and I accept the apology" He looked over his shoulder to look Ginny in the eyes before she stepped back to stand beside Ron. Ron smiled stupidly as he caught his eye.

"It's good to have you back Harry, but we have to get going. That vortex won't last forever."

"As much as we…" George said cheekily.

"… hate to be agreeable." Fred answered in their little game of 'finish my sentence'. Their twin birth and magic had formed into a strong mental connection that had once made them fierce warriors. They always knew what the other was doing, how their position related to their twin and what the other was thinking. Harry fondly remembered them arguing and using each others arguments against each other. It had been one of the rare points to look forward to after Hogwarts had fallen. "Ron is right." Fred and George chorused together. Ron looked half insulted.

"Oh Harry, I have missed you so much, but never die again." Hermione said desperately.

"Not if I can stop it." He answered her. "Let's go… well wherever we're going."

"To the past Harry, to where you can fulfil you're oath and uphold the morals of magic. And a word to the wise, forget your personal morals; it is the morals of magic you are going to uphold. Go in peace and with the god's blessings." said Death. Taking a deep breath while mulling over the message, he took Hermione and Ginny's hands who grabbed the other Weasley boys before as a group they walked through the vortex- together again.

What none of them noticed were the runes that followed the-boy-who-lived, none of them saw the magic drain out of the wizards and witches and the vortex shrink and disappear. No one saw Fawkes dive through the vortex at the last second. For it was at this second that the world, this hell created by a half-blood called Riddle, simply ceased to exist with a deafening snap.


	2. The Mission

**Disclaimer** – The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership.

/mindspeech, human to human/

/-mindspeech, human to other-/

"normal speech"

Lost Time

Chapter 2

**The Mission**

* * *

Harry and Co. appeared, standing in the Weasley home, the Burrow. Mrs Weasley was looking very pregnant, actually she looked like a bus- but that wasn't polite to say, and was lying on a couch. Arthur fussed around her, not letting her stand for a second, though she tried several times. The scene made Harry smile, while he heard Ginny's quiet sobs and Hermione's soothing, reassuring sounds.

He would have helped too- but it wasn't his place and this was a very personal scene for them to have stumbled over. Ron seemed a little teary eyed while the twins looked like stunned mullets. It was eerie seeing their identical expressions side by side.

"We're about to be born" Fred said as his face turned from shocked to horrified. For once George was speechless.

"Oh… I feel sorry for you two." Ron said grinning.

"You lot have to close your eyes" George said suddenly. He looked meaningfully at his brother and a light bulb came on for the brother.

"Mind filling us in?" Harry said, laughing on the inside at their antics.

"I don't want to know who's older!"

"You two really are nutters"

"Get over it, _boys_" Hermione said, muttering the last part conspiratorially at a still weepy Ginny. Ginny giggled uncharacteristically. She wasn't prone to girly fits of laughter, often.

"Molly, it should be any minute." Arthur said, checking his wand.

"Good god these two don't stop shuffling around! Percy was never this much of a problem! Behave!" She practically yelled this at her abdomen. "Where on earth is that blasted midwife!"

"She'll be here any second, I've sent for her"

"You'd think if they knew when the birth would be that the midwife would already be here" Harry said randomly.

"You'd think that- but magical people are notoriously stupid, British ones especially" Hermione said offhandedly.

"As much as this interests me, I still don't get what exactly is happening," Ron said. "It's all a bit weird. Why are 'we' all here" He said gesturing at the four who weren't about to be born.

"It looks to me as if we're all going to have to be reborn." Hermione said in a very practical voice. Harry had noticed as she'd become more disciplined Hermione had turned into a young McGonagall. While she still enjoyed a laugh in some of her letters and was very different in other ways- she'd used McGonagall as a role model after her parents' murders. It had helped her survive for three years in a cold and unforgiving world and it looked like she'd taken it with her after death.

"Oh my god" Ron had turned a shade of green that clashed horribly with his hair.

"Now what I want to know…" Her voice trailed off as she looked at Fred and George who were being sucked into Molly's womb. "Well this should answer the question in a few hours."

"Oh" Who spoke first was anyone's guess.

"My"

"God!" Their voices had upped a few octaves and they were starting to scream like little girls.

"Don't just"

"Stand there- help"

"US!" With a sick sort of slurp both Fred and George disappeared into a suddenly-screaming-and-obviously-in-labour-Molly-Weasley.

* * *

The birth had been pretty hard on Mrs. Weasley, delivering two boys- ouch, but at the end she was all smiles as she held twin boys who snuggled into their mother's warmth. When Fred and Georges unearthly cries were heard Arthur came back inside of the room (He'd gone out of the room, to where it was safe, when the midwife had told him to) with the three other boys. Doing the math in his head, Harry figured Bill was about 6, Charley 4 and Percy 2, so Arthur had to carry Percy who didn't quite get what was happening.

"Welcome your little brothers into the family boys" Arthur said grinning like mad. Charley and Bill did as told and went over to say hello, however reluctantly. Percy solemnly watched on from his fathers grip.

"What are their names?" Bill asked in a tiny voice.

"Fredrick and George" Their mother told them, pointing out which was which.

"Fred and George" Bill repeated.

"Catchy, hey?" Arthur said.

"I suppose" Said Charley who obviously didn't know what to do.

"What are we supposed to do?" Ron asked a mix between disgusted and sick.

"Do what we did while we were dead." Hermione said, resolutely.

"Ah- hello- I have no idea what that was, not all of us have experience with that." Harry said dumbly.

"We spent our time gathering information. After our deaths we were still connected to the real world by you, so we tried to help at first, but then we just started to gather information on people, keeping tabs, listening to people- you know." Ginny told Harry. She turned to Hermione "Though I don't see why we should do that."

"Perfect! When we get back our bodies we'll have all of this information already!" Ron exclaimed excitedly.

"How do we even know we'll even remember all this? How do we know we won't just become the same person we were? Fred and George haven't exactly shown that they remember." Ron looked glum.

"It's a good point, but what's the point in doing that; why would magic send us back if we couldn't do anything differently." Hermione pointed out.

"I'm not even sure why magic sent us back at all. It was supposed to be an honourable death- nothing more, nothing less."

"We were there when you were gathering information for the spell and I remember it- but it never said anything about what happened." Hermione said confused.

"I know…" Harry said, rubbing his non-existent forehead tiredly.

"It seemed pretty obvious to me" Ron said, shocking both Harry and Hermione. Ron saw this and didn't look happy. "I'm not brain dead!"

"Well, spit it out- oh brother of mine"

"The spell was meant to insure a life after that one which was better. This life is going to be better. We all just assumed it meant the afterlife."

"True."

"And it fulfils your destiny to destroy Voldemort. All in all it works out." Ginny said, approving of her brothers thoughts.

"We don't know that this will fulfil that. It is possible that we can't do enough to fix this world." Hermione said pensively.

"Just not bloody likely. If it's the last thing I do it'll end one way or another in this world."

"I want that bastard dead for…" Hermione's eyes widened. "My parents!" She gasped. "They're alive, they're alive!"

"And mine…"

"Oh my god Harry! We're going to see them again, aren't we!"

* * *

It had been two weeks since the birth of the Weasley twins and for umpteenth time Hermione and Ron were fighting.

"Will you two shut the hell up?" Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs. They were sitting in the Nursery, waiting from some sort of sign that the twins were still in there. It'd all happened so fast that none of them knew exactly what was going to happen now. They could all be going to their bodies unaware for all they knew. And that fact was exactly what made Ron and Hermione fight. It seemed to bug Ginny, but Harry didn't mind. It was a nice reminder of better days.

/Ginny's right you know, we were trying to sleep/ Ginny just stared dumbly at the crib while the other three looked for the source of the sound.

"Fred? You can hear us?" Ginny spoke softly, disbelievingly.

/No, it's George. And no- we can't. / Ginny rushed forward to the crib while it was Ron and Hermione's turns to look disbelievingly at the crib. Harry was surprised, but guessed what was happening fairly quickly and took it in his stride.

"Well, well, well, now we know. How long have you two been conscious? And when did you two learn to do this?" Hermione said just a little bit smugly while she looked at Ron after getting over the shock quickly. Not that Ron noticed; he was relived to just be sure that he'd be conscious.

/Since the beginning/

/but it looks like it took more time/

/for the twin bond to take hold properly./

/We'd always assumed/

/it was there from the beginning/

/but it looks like/

/that's not true. /

/And we discovered/

/the ability to turn our/

/telepathic abilities outward/

/from the link/

/after Ron's death/

/We didn't tell you Harry/

/Sorry. /

"You two do know that's no less annoying when you're babies than when you're adults" Ginny said cheerfully.

/Don't you/

/think your/

/big brothers are/

/cute/ The twins said mock innocently as they blinked their eyes in unison.

"I assure you I find you two very cute for children. Now we need to discuss things now- as in _right_ now." Hermione said as she managed to compliment the twins and make them feel somehow insulted as only she could. "As far as I can tell it is currently April the 16th 1978 and I will be born in the next 17 months or so. So we need to have this all planed out before then." Ron scoffed.

"I doubt we're going to need 17 months to make up a plan, Hermione" Harry had to agree.

"Yes, well, and how do you expect us to spy and gather information unobtrusively while we're in bodies?" Ginny shot back, defending Hermione.

"Let's not get into a fight over this, ok." Harry interrupted as Ron opened his mouth to retort. "Right now we all need to concentrate on what we're going to do"

"Thankyou Harry, Ginny- what I was about to say was that time works oddly. As the only one among us to have had to do extensive research about the theory's on time travel for permission to use my time-turner" everyone seemed to calm down at that. Hermione was the only one who had ever had an interest in time magic. After Hogwarts had fallen she'd searched through hundreds of books studying for a way to change the timeline. In her last letters she'd explained it was impossible. "What we have right now is an opportunity that doesn't come around- ever. We need to keep our advantage for as long as possible."

/Our advantage/

"Yes- our advantage. We know what will happen if nothing on this timeline changes. We know who will die when and how certain events will play out. If for any reason you decide to change the timeline so much as to destroy it completely, we lose all of our advantage." She started pacing like a commander giving a speech before war or Wood before a game.

"So you want us _not_ to change anything?"

"No, some things have to change. But if they do change then they need to be controlled. Most importantly we need to know what needs to be changed." She stopped pacing and stood in front of them, questioning them silently.

"Sirius… my Parents" Harry whispered. No one spoke a word while Hermione gave Harry a pained expression.

"Sirius certainly… your parents…. I don't thinks so. Your parents were the resounding defeat of Voldemort. Way too much of the timeline revolves around them dying." Harry accepted this silently, as he'd assumed this already, but made a pledge to himself that he would enjoy his time with his parents for as long as possible.

"The Longbottom's, the family was virtually destroyed by the Lestranges. Neville was destroyed before he had a chance." Ginny spoke uncertainly. She and Neville had been good friends in her fifth year and had dated twice.

"I agree, but how are we going to do that? By that time we'll be born and I don't know how we could affect it as babies." Ron said.

"The how isn't important right now. We can work out the details later. Neville could have been a stronger person if he'd even had his parents for a year before Hogwarts. He needs to be helped this time" Hermione spoke, making Ron nod thoughtfully.

"Our strength, even sixth year Hogwarts students were weak and pathetic. We could have done so much better." Ron said vehemently. "They never taught wandless magic and the Tibetan monks told us that the magical core is most pliable for the first 12 years. Just about pliable enough to make wandless magic a real weapon to be afraid of."

"Agreed" Ginny stated

"If I'd gone into Hogwarts with just a little more strength I could have even possibly defeated Voldemort in his weakest state while he was a ghost. Not first year- but maybe by fourth year." Harry said. He thought for a second before lighting up with an idea "I want out of the Dursley's. They belittled me and stunted my growth for 10 years before I got out of there for even one school term."

/That can wok into the Sirius idea. /

/Just got to get him on the run while you're only a baby/ one of the twins added. Hermione's eyes bulged for a second as a thought came to her.

"Why didn't I think of that before! Ron, George, Fred- when you see 'Scabbers' I want you to do a little wandless magic and make him turn back in front of your parents. Tie him up if you have to, or do it while he's in a cage, I don't care. You do that and Sirius will be free to take Harry in as his Godson."

"Not to mention Dad will probably get an order of Merlin." Ron said brightly.

"That's irrelevant" Harry said. "So that's one plan done." There was a silence.

"I think we need to fix the house unity problem at Hogwarts somehow." Ginny said suddenly. "The whole Hogwarts idea of separating us into four is only helping cause the divisions of blood."

"Yes, I always did find that annoying" Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Hagrid, His name could be cleared sooner than it was." Ron spoke up.

"I don't really think that matters in the scheme. It would be a nice gesture- but I don't know if it would do any good to him. He's already spent 40 odd years with it over his head. Right now it can't be that much of a bother to him." Hermione said flat out.

"I think the most important thing is that I get down to the chamber of secrets and either kill the basilisk or work out some way to neutralise it in first year. Stop it from ever attacking the students again."

"And the second I find that diary again I'm burning it. Page by page" Ginny gritted her teeth as she said this. She'd always viewed it as the first major disappointment which had crippled her social skills and ruined her image of Hogwarts.

"Without a doubt, and I'll be there with you burning it. I think we also need to get some way of killing Barty Crouch Junior. Maybe even get rid of him before he gets caught and makes Crouch Senior step down to Fudge as Minister of Magic?"

/That'll be hard to do considering, but/

/we think Crouch should be dead/

/before he gets into Azkaban/

"Agreed- it'll have to be a bit of a mission." Hermione added. Her face darkened "But if you don't have Peter or Crouch there to revive Voldemort who will. They were his main research men who brought him back."

"I don't know or care, Hermione. It's one advantage I think we can sacrifice. Personally I think there are plenty of Death Eaters out there who can bring him back. Lestrange, Malfoy, probably Crabbe and Goyle could even do it."

/Moony/

/He should be given his Lycan powers sooner. /

"And just how do you two think that'll work. None of us have Tonks abilities and I have no idea how we'd be able to even begin…" Ginny said flatly.

"I do." The others looked sceptically at Harry. "I spent years with Tonks- remember. We discovered I had the ability but it had been snuffed out by years of neglect and malnutrition. I could barely make my hair grow when she got to me but she worked me up until I could do most of it. I never got complete facial reconstruction though. She also talked a lot about Moony. She told me about their ideas and I remember most of their joint theories about Lycan abilities. It might take me a few years to put back together in my mind- but I know I could do it."

"I'm not sure; Remus' condition was an integral part of his personality and lifestyle. It might change the timeline too much." Hermione said slowly, painfully almost.

"No," Surprisingly it was Ron who said what everyone else was thinking "he can be discrete about it. We can do it discretely. All the suffering he had to go through could be erased if we did this properly."

"You'd better hope this is done properly then Ron." said Hermione

* * *

**End Chapter**


	3. Birth and Prophecy

Disclaimer – The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

Lost Time

Chapter 3

Anyone who says birth is a bitch, but hasn't actually been apart of it has no idea how right they are. You see- birth is a bitch for two people. Three if you include the father, but who cares about him, he's the one who caused it; he deserves his lot. But who we were talking about before was the mother… and the child. When that baby is screaming it's lungs out it's not because it's just cold. It's crying because it has just been pushed out of a whole that starts out smaller than its head. Guess how much that hurts. Ouch.

Hermione was thinking this as she was born- this exactly- "ouch". Well, maybe not just ouch. Maybe "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, this is not only uncomfortable but it huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurts. Ouch, ouch, ouch" would be more accurate- not that she'd ever admit to that. Of course, that's not to say that this is true for all babies. None of them have ever seen daylight before birth, let alone knew how to think in coherent words. But then again, Dentists Jane and John Granger had always said their daughter was special. Or they soon would.

Unknown to the two Doctors, three if you include the one who just came in to tell the nurses good job, in the corner of the delivery room, behind the college friend of Jane's who would become 'Aunty Jean' and Hermione's Grandmother Hewitt- stood a small trio who were listening to Hermione's screams of pain and horror with bright cheery smiles. This group comprised of 'future' (whatever future meant at this point) friends Hermione would have made if she had been a normal, witch, child in, oh, about 11 (nearly 12), years time.

Not that they cared to think of this fact. They didn't care to think at all of their pasts, it was simply too painful. For right at this moment they didn't have bodies, much as Hermione had just received hers through birth- they would have to get theirs similarly. Even though, through 'talks' with George and Fred, they had gleaned that the process was painful- they were all eagerly awaiting it. It promised to be an oh so much better prospect than what they had currently.

You see, for the past- oh- 17 months, they had been 'data collecting'. This added up to following people around for periods of time and looking through books and files relentlessly. Usually the people who had the most influence over the Wizarding and Muggle worlds and the oldest texts. Hermione, true to her past life as a Muggle-born witch had been the one most qualified to take up the duty of spying on the Muggle world. It had involved travelling all over the world constantly, spying on politicians and watching businesses rise and fall. Hermione had also spent a lot of time looking at technological advances- it being the driving force behind the Muggle world and a large advantage over the everyday wizard.

Harry had spent his time looking into his parent's history and the first war. He mainly watched out for Voldemort's plans, ways of thinking and strategy. This information would have been invaluable to the light side, but because he had no means of communication with the real world he merely waited and watched. Some of the plans and rituals could prove invaluable knowledge if used properly in the future.

Several properties of the Dark Mark, for instance, Harry had found out were rather interesting. Voldemort had occasionally killed a betrayer, controlled peoples minds, tortured them ruthlessly and sent mild shocks of pain into people through their Dark Marks with a mere touch of a large silver serpent tattoo on his arm. Harry assumed that this was the master tattoo- but Harry couldn't remember ever seeing it on Voldemort after his 'death'. Did it mean that it hadn't survived that night? Harry didn't know.

But what he did know was that his teachers hadn't been as forthcoming about his parents as he'd been led to believe- neither had Sirius and Remus for that matter. His mother hadn't been such a good person as they'd all said. He'd caught her doing dark ritual after dark ritual, nothing that would warrant much concern and nothing completely illegal- but still rather dark. She'd also had several friends that he'd seen here and there but had never mentioned her to him. Most concerning of these Narcissa Black and Helena Dippet (who was dating a budding journalist- Roger Lovegood outside of school). Both Slytherin and strongly entrenched in the Dark Arts and yet strangely almost family to Lily. The Mudblood of Slytherin was her name- almost used as an endearment honestly.

Harry had seen his father's graduating year and seen he wasn't quite as evil as Snape's smear memories had shown. He was arrogant- that was true. He was a right prick when it came down to it- but he wasn't evil. He'd even tried to apologise to Snape at the end of the year, to which Snape had spat hatefully in his face his reply "Never in the flaming pits of hell would I forgive you". James had still been civil after that- Snape had not even tried. Overall Harry had been left with mixed emotions of his father and mother.

Ginny had spent the last 17 months in the ministry mostly. She had volunteered for the job because after school she had once planned to work there for a career and it gave her a chance to see her father daily. She'd taken the area last and no one had felt the need to object- not that she wouldn't use this as the opportunity it was as much as she could.

Her main focuses were to find the dirt of the Wizarding Politicians and to work out all the loopholes in laws and such. Her greatest triumph in her position yet was her findings regarding the practices of underage magic and how it was detected. Magic as a whole was detected on the basis that only three types of magic existed: the Ambient (neutral magic that existed around magical places), the Chaotic and the Ordered (Accidental and Wand magic respectively). Magical markers were placed on all magical children at their first use of magic to show that they were underage and track their positions. The spell was dispelled naturally at the age of 17 but by this time the department of magical control had their magical signature which allowed them to see when the magical signature flared and apparated illegally. This, they assumed, allowed them to monitor the child's magic uses right up until they were of age and then gave them the information to tell who apparated where.

However, Ambient magic- found strongly in Hogwarts and other place of magic like Diagon Alley- scrambled the spell and allowed for magic to be used undetected. Not that they particularly cared, Ambient magic generally repelled the everyday Muggle. One nicely shaped loop hole was that some spells could create enough Ambient magic to scramble the tracker, another was that Wandless magic was considered accidental because it wasn't focused through a wand and therefore wasn't tracked. This, she had thought, could prove invaluable.

When Hermione had decided to look at the Muggle world, Ron had chosen the Wizarding world at large. Being a pureblood he knew all of these places through pictures and stories. The Wizard Pyramids of Egypt, China's City of the Magi, The Secret Valley of Tibet, The ruins of Atlantis beneath the sea but so far his greatest information had been found in the Vatican. Now normally no one was allowed to enter the secret catacombs in Vatican City- but who was going to stop a ghost? Actually- some of the spells laid on the site invited friendly spirits to protect its secrets.

While Ron knew that the Catholic church had indeed been one of the many organisations to burn witches at the stake along with Heretics, he also knew that they were in fact led by quite a few Wizards; most Dark- some not and all protectors of ancient secrets older than Christ. Olde Roman magic was one of the strongest of the Western branches wether they knew it or not.

There, in Vatican City he had found an entirely new category of magic which in fact was a lot like the olden magic's of the Elemental gift excepting the fact that it worked on what had been known as 'The Great Powers'- currently known to Muggle scientists as Physics. It allowed for the complete evolution of modern spells and charms', reworking them into spells which took a fraction of the energy to produce 20 times the effect. Most of them were required to be done without a wand, which was strange, and there didn't seem to be an explanation as to why. But to Ron that was a plus, no- the major downfall was that the spells would have to be made using entirely new systems of Arithmancy. Spells had to be made from scratch- literally. It worried him how long it may well take but he'd seen the potential. He'd immediately memorised the pages on pages of information on the subject for Hermione and Ginny's perusal. They'd know what to do with it.

Hermione had stopped crying and was looking around the room with bright intelligent baby eyes. The nurses were looking at the baby nervously and obviously thought she was strange. Ginny took this as her cue to come forward and say hello to newly born Hermione.

"Congratulations Hermione." She kissed her on the forehead, to which Hermione cooed softly and blinked. "It's just too bad we can't speak- mind to mind. I love you lots and good luck with your family." As Ginny moved away Harry walked forward and similarly kissed Hermione on the forehead.

"Well Hermione, now is your chance. You have your body, you have your parents. Enjoy every second with them. I'll visit you as often as I can but with Voldemort's activity rising it might not be often. You just enjoy your time with your parents." Stepping back, Harry gave way so that Ron could say his goodbyes and they could all leave. Ron only had 7 months or so before he was due to be born and he needed to finish off his world wondering. He hadn't even touched Indian magic yet or both the America's.

"Hey Hermione." He kissed her forehead. "You make sure that when we meet next time you're ready; mind, body, soul and magic. We're going to fix everything- it's all going to be better this time around. You'll see" He kissed her forehead again "Goodbye"

"We love you and we'll see you as soon as possible." Was Ginny's reply before she disappeared.

"We love you, big sister" Harry said, disappearing with a pop much like Ginny.

"I love you Hermione" And Ron was gone.

Hermione watched for just a second before closing her eyes and settling into her mothers warmth for the first time in what seemed like an age. She was home again, and nothing was going to keep her away from her parents ever again.

* * *

When the twins had said it had hurt so much they hadn't been kidding. Ron was just realising how much they weren't kidding. When he came out it wasn't a manly scream, it wasn't even a boyish scream- it was a girly, high pitched cry of agony and horror. 

After he'd calmed down, Ron would rationalise that it had hurt so much because his muscles were so weak. He didn't have a pain threshold not because he was a wimp- he was a baby for gods' sake. They were meant to scream and wail and be generally upset about this whole birth thing.

As the midwife went to call in the Weasley Patriarch and the children, Ron peered over to the two standing to the side who were watching him with smug grins. If Ron's tiny baby face muscles could grimace- they did at that exact moment. _Oh no_, he thought, _they're going to use this against me- I can just tell._ Ron had always been paranoid.

What the two in the corner were actually thinking was, _They put him in a pink blanket. Mum/Mrs. Weasley (_respectively_) must have really wanted a girl._ Not that they would ever tell Ron this small fact. His ego would simply die if he knew- Fred and George would tell him for them.

Again, like with the twins, Arthur led the Weasley boys in to see their new brother. The boys were noticeably older. Bill had grown a foot and by Harry's calculations must have been eight now. Not that Harry and Ginny hadn't been visitors every once in a while, but they were kept busy with their spying jobs, Harry more so than Ginny with recent Voldemort activity, his parents history and, of course, the recent prophecy.

Harry had been privileged with information about raids and Voldemort's more diabolical plans. Not surprisingly almost all of them involved Voldemort's immortality. He wasn't particularly interested in actually taking over the Wizarding world quite yet. No- right now he was happy to search for immortality and kill thousands of people in weekly raids on Muggle Villages and suburbs. And every time he found a chance at immortality it was a fake, the sacrifice was too much for Voldemort, details were too sketchy, the Order somehow got to the item first, on and on the list of big V's great mistakes went. And with every failure it became more and more apparent that Voldemort couldn't stand being defied. Of course that recently changed with the Prophecy.

The Prophesy was made, as Harry had understood it to be, in Hogshead by Trelawney to Albus during an interview for the Job. When Harry had heard those dreaded words he knew that they were true, undeniable prophesy for lack of a better phrase. Wrong and right. _'The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the dark lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the dark lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…' _And yet something was wrong with those words. Something was terribly incomplete in them. He could feel the horrible emptiness about them, the woolly, broken incompleteness about them and knew- something about them wasn't right- and yet between the pauses Harry felt that irrefutable rightness. How and why baffled him.

Between Hermione and Ron's births a lot had happened. In December 1979 Narcissa was married off by her father to the wealthy Malfoy family as Lucius' bride and broodmare. She had gone kicking, screaming, pleading and begging to her father but after the marriage had quietened down to a whispered chocking sound to her one and only friend left- Helena.

Straight after the wedding, as in the afternoon after- Lucius had sent an official letter to James Potter in his Lord capacity and told him, if you read between the lines and longwinded words, to keep his wife away from Narcissa. By the olde laws that James and Lucius had to abide by to keep their money and power this counted as an official cutting of all ties between Lords. Lord James Potter had replied and told him it was Narcissa's choice to further the relationship, meaning stuff it up your arse and it's your fault- control your wife. To which Lucius had made Narcissa, under imperious, to write a letter to Lilly telling her to stay away from her. Lily, because she did not have to abide by the laws she called stuffy, had ignored this and still sent daily letters, but no reply's came. Lily was confident that Narcissa got some of them. She didn't know Lucius burned them in front of her for kicks and giggles.

Lily of course, had stayed to her dark arts, but now did them in secret. She knew her husband couldn't abide by dark magic and so didn't use any in front of him. The more Harry saw of her the more he felt he didn't understand her. She was a Muggleborn and yet she acted as thoroughly pureblood when it came to magic as Narcissa or even Dumbledore. Her magic was also incredibly powerful for a Muggleborn. Harry had painfully learnt from his time in Japan that heritage was what determined you're sheer power.

Not that he'd ever say that a Muggleborn couldn't be formidable- it was just that their magic would always be something of a second best compared to those whose lines went unbroken for centuries or millennia in the Orient. Harry's magic hadn't even touched one master he'd tried to challenge in order to further advance his own skills. Without getting a touch in he'd been beaten to a pulp through sheer power. Not a word was spoken during this time, his shame had been absolute.

Ginny watched Harry thoughtfully. He always seemed so confused lately. From what he'd told her it was because of his mother's strange behaviour. Ginny put it down to their work right now. The angle they were watching the world from was strange and confusing to say the least without adding into the mix family matters and a mother and father he'd never really known. Ginny found her work at the ministry strange enough without adding in family.

Lately Ginny had been getting dirt, truckloads of dirt, on the ministers. Cover-ups, corruption, spending going to ministerial coffers and retirement plans, embezzling, sex scandals, Death Eaters in the Ministry, you name it and Ginny saw it all. She had reams of evidence too. Memories could be used in a court of law. Documents were there if you knew where to find them- and Ginny knew.

She knew the ministry's wards system. The Auror restricted material was all memorised. She knew the Auror defence and attack methods off by heart. Ginny was the queen of the Ministry- they just didn't know it yet. There were only two parts of the ministry she didn't know back to front and inside out: the department of Transportation and the department of Mysteries; those two and those two alone.

Ginny still had over 14 months by her count and she'd practically done everything already in scheme of things. Not that she minded having a little spare time with her family. No- she wouldn't mind at all.

Ron wouldn't mind it at all either. India and America had been an eye opener. In India the magic's were wild and untamed like the jungles. The Wizards were heavily influenced by the Western world- but their magic could not be changed through English influence.

The Americas magic was just plain strange and involved strange riddles and stranger rituals. However their werewolf and Animagus powers were truly amazing. The different fractions on the magical beliefs were another thing. While all American Indian tribes of North America maintained at least some war magic's, most focused on other things. Shape shifting was a favourite. Almost all of the tribes were intact- but they didn't live quite normally.

When the Europeans had come the Wizarding tribes had come together and banded together to stop Western magic invading their lands. They had not been able to keep all of their lands but they had been able to keep their culture which was what had mattered most to them. They still lived in carefully warded secret villages which moved constantly. American Indian Wizardry/Shamanism had survived the war of cultures. Unfortunately their cousins the Muggle had not.

South American Wizardry was a strange flavour indeed. They were a closed society which did not talk to the outside world but still existed in unknown parts of the jungle and selective villages. Ron had visited them for a short while in the few months he had to be with them. They had recognised the spirit in their midst and quickly found he simply wanted to learn. They had been open to sharing information, simply not allowing him to share it with the rest of the open world. He hadn't minded but had warned them other spirits would learn- they didn't mind.

/Long time/ Ginny was startled out of her thoughts by her annoying brothers. For just a second she was actually upset at them for it- but then she realised how stupid it was to be upset because someone said hello- even in their unique way.

/No see. How/

/Are you guys/

"Dead- you?" Harry said reflexively.

/Amazing/

/Brilliant/

/Wonderful/

/Outstanding/

"Good to know."

/We get our little Ronnikins all to ourselves now- isn't it great/ the two smiled mischievously.

"Yes well, no breaking him before I get there- ok. I still want an older brother to mess with once I'm born."

/Yeah, Harry's/

/next. Aren't you/

/very excited/

"Of course I am. Are you kidding me- I get to get a second go. You know what this means to me."

/Of/

/course/ The twins were brought down to Molly's arms to see their brother.

"Fred, George, meet you're brother- Ronald" She beamed at them. Ron was still looking around sacredly, like a deer caught in the headlights, which served to scare the midwife- who was still hanging around to help Molly.

"Ronnikins! Yay!"

"Ronnikins! Yay!" They shouted in his face together.

"Ronnikins, what a weird word," Was Percy's reaction while their father laughed at them. The twins looked smug while Ron just looked upset, almost ready to cry. The midwife quickly removed the offending boys from the baby Ron's face- reprimanding them softly. The rest of the family quickly surrounded Ron and Molly, leaving the midwife to hold the enthusiastic boys off.

"Tell Ron we said goodbye and take care of him, ok?" Ginny told the twins as the nurse let them go.

/Will do/

* * *

Harry was standing beside his mother excitedly moving from one foot to another, anxious to be born soon. The last four month's he'd watched his mother's tummy get bigger and bigger, mostly ignoring Voldemort and the Death Eaters. They basically knew what was going to happen now- and it didn't matter. It wouldn't matter for a year and a bit. Harry really didn't care. He wanted into his body now. 

Ginny stood next to him, silent in her waiting, as they had all been with Hermione and Ron. This time was different though, Ginny had 9 months of solitude. Who would she talk to- the twins? The only ones with a voice box developed to talk would be the twins. She had no one now- just the promise of a birth in the distant future.

"You'll come and visit me- won't you?"

"James- he squirming, I think he's close- where is that damn nurse!"

"Midwives come when they're needed the most- she'll be here soon enough"

"Soon enough is not good enough!" Lily screamed at him. He remained unfazed by her ranting and took it as a harsh birth.

"Of course. As often as I can- I promise you."

"I'll come to you when I'm three regardless of Sirius' status. You make sure he knows where I am. Please, make sure he knows." Tears welled up with the knowledge of what the Dursley's would put him through, even what he didn't know they'd do to him. His memories were sketchy of his time with the Dursley's before 5 where there seemed to be a block in his memories immovable by Occlumency. It scared him to think HE had blocked something from his conscious memory forever. He didn't know why, he wasn't sure if he wanted to. "You remember don't you- 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Use any means if it comes down to it. Free Sirius and get me out of there."

"Of course. Harry- I want you to know- you're my brother. By more than blood. We're more than family. We're beyond that now. We are clan." For a second Harry was shocked. To claim clan was a magically binding statement that bound your magic to the protection of the other. It was an intimate bond and if it was refused it could prove fatal for the one offering. Harry felt no hesitance in saying the response.

"We are clan. Your kin is my kin, your blood mine." They hugged, as best their afterlife could allow for and cried silvery tears. The magic was comforting for a moment before Harry felt a pull behind his navel. Harry assumed this was his birth.

"We are clan. Your kin are my kin, your blood mine."

"It's time…" And he was gone. Ginny watched on in solace as she had twice before. What happened next had not happened twice before. Not at all.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH why did I ever let you're filthy hands touch me. I…" Gasp "I hate you so much you stuck up little…" Gasp shut eyes "Get me potions! Get me pain relief. Where is that midwife- GET ME HER NOW YOU SON OF A….! AHHHHHHHHHH" James was shocked for a second before he quickly took the better part of valour and left the room running. True Gryffindor that one, Lilly thought dully as the pain eased as his proximity lessened.

The door slammed behind him.

"What…." The pain was leaving rather nicely and Lily was too relieved to notice. Her eyes went blurry and she lay on her back, panting heavily. "Is the midwife…. Here" Gasp. Her breath was slowing and she was tired. Pressure built up between her legs and she instantly pushed as a reflex, allowing a shell shocked Harry to come out almost cleanly. Lily was too far gone to do more than pick up the small boy, wrap him gently in his white cotton blanket and fall asleep. She didn't notice the soft singing, the lights twirling or the fact that her beautiful baby boy was silent through the process. He was watching, he was listening. He heard, he saw.

"On Death's wings,

He's lived,

On Death's wings,

He's died,

On Death's wings,

He's lived again,

On Death's wings,

The circle of life does not end,

On Death's wings,

The is no end."

This one phrase was sung by the childlike voices in joy he associated with the neighbourhood girls of Privet Drive. They were small, innocent and endlessly pure. Their song made him want to sing with them, it made him happy. It made him feel wonderful.

The lights for a while were unclear, strange lines without purpose or direction, but slowly they became clearer and made more sense until they were written in clear and understandable magic runes. Magic runes were the core runes used to say things of real importance. A sentence in magical runes was a spell no matter how dull it was written. "Henry has a cat" was a spell to give a Henry a cat. What he saw was more complex.

"Here lies the Lord by blood of House Potter and House Wyatt and the Lord by circumstance of House Black. So the thrice blessed Lord is born. Let it be so. So mote it be. Here lies the heir of 5. In magic, wealth and power may he be their true heir. Let it be so. So mote it be. Child of Prophecy- eons seen- here lies the Phoenix. To live to die and to live again. Let it be so. So mote it be. Child of Blood- scores shed- here lies the heir to all score in magic alone. Let it be so. So mote it be."

Harry was stumped. Child of Prophesy- certainly, Child of Blood- possibly if mother did something I don't know about, Phoenix- hell no. What was this all about. This didn't happen in his reality. It couldn't have- could it? The song died down slowly until it was an old voice that interested him. He wasn't entirely sure he was hearing it because of its echo and surreal qualities. Whereas the last song made him feel peppy and joyful this one made him feel tired and worn out.

The One with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches,

Born of the Olde Blood and Olde Magic,

Born to those of Noble Blood,

Born to those who have thrice defied Him,

Born as the seventh month dies,

Born as the Thrice blessed Lord above all others,

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,

But he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not,

To rise and to fall as the Phoenix but never truly die,

And so he can never win,

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives,

The circle of life and death will continue until He falls,

The one with the power to vanquish the dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies,

Nourished by the ashes of his former life.

And so it was to these strange words and lights that Harry fell asleep in his mothers arms. When the door unlocked and the midwife appeared the lights had faded to a dim aura and the singing merely left a tired feeling in the air. Midwife and husband looked at mother and son in shock having guessed the other had only just come in they both said in unison.

"Who helped deliver?" They stood in shock.

"And why is the blanket maroon- wasn't it white before…" James said, taking the blanket in his hand. Feeling wetness he removed it to see blood. The Midwife fainted.

* * *

"What's happened to him doctor?" A distressed James and a calm but worried Sirius asked a confused Doctor of Saint Mungo's. Doctor Jamison found the case perplexing- but kept quiet about that for fear of further distressing the father. 

"He seems to have bled out an impurity through his nose, eyesand ears. We couldn't tell what the impurity was but the body and magic found it so distressing that it bled it out. Very rare but usually this only happens at particularly strong coming of age rituals- but as of yet we don't know much. Do you have any suspicions about this?"

"No. It's never happened to anyone in my family. Lily and I checked over the birthing records of my side of the family in case we should expect wings or a natural animagus but there aren't any records of magically strange children for the past thirteen generations." James was babbling hysterically. Sirius consoled him before speaking up.

"Was there anything we could have done? Did we miss anything? What does this mean?"

"You've done everything you could have." He sighed, he didn't know what to say about it. All family's had certain qualities around birth and the only way to find out what would happen was to consult family records on magical sides. "Are you sure Mrs. Potter is Muggleborn?"

"As Muggleborn as they come. I've met her family- sister's a nasty Muggle thing." Sirius said as James became less agitated and distressed. James would never say it but he absolutely hated Lily's sister. She was vile, horse-like and everything the Wizarding world wasn't. Her husband was worse and Lily had recently discovered that Petunia was pregnant and hadn't told her. To say that Lily was mad was an understatement. No- Lily was not from magical lineage; not at all.

"Well- it wasn't a hereditary birthing problem, then. We've tried as many spells and revealing spells on the child as we could at this ageand found nothing that would explain his condition. And by the way- congratulations, you're son is a metamorphmagus and has a strong animagus gift. Based on that I'd say he'll be excellent in Transfiguration and a prime choice for an Auror.You should also look through some more tests to try and find out if he has any other traits as they usually come in factors of three if there are more than one. Strong magic he has too- easily enough for a fully grown Wizard." James stared blatantly before beaming like the proud father he'd forgotten he was during his panic attack.

Sirius was taking the news differently though. His favourite cousin Andromeda had a metamorphmagus child, a girl named Nymphadora. Sirius smiled mischievously, James didn't know what he was getting himself into. Metamorphmagus children were easily the hardest of the magical children to raise. Not to mention the fact that he could easily be lost at almost any moment. James stopped beaming thoughtfully.

"He's the first metamorphmagus in our family. Well, no- my fifth cousin, Nicademas, has an incomplete ability. I suppose that should count. How is Lily?"

"Lily's condition is as expected- exhausted magically and physically.She should rest for the next few days- but the birth went well for her- we checked for scarring and she had none. She's still sleeping with Harry if you want to go in."

"Yes, I would like to." James was halfway through the door when he turned back to Sirius. "Are you coming in to see your godson?"

"I thought you'd never ask" And just as they walked through the doors a puzzled Ginny walked in after them to watch the sleeping baby boy for just a moment.

"What's so special about you Harry?" She whispered, puzzled. This was too good a mystery to give up. Wether or not Harry knew. She'd find out.

* * *

Ginny's birth was a revelation to her. Whereas all the others had been merely there for a few minute before being sucked in and spat out, as the twins had affectionately put it, Ginny had spent the week leading up to her birth bonding with her mother and family. The twins and Ron were only too happy to see their younger sister hanging around more and the twins regularly bantered with her as she watched her mother rub her stomach and smile. These were strangely intimate moments for Ginny as she knew that her mother had always wanted a little girl to love and hold. It was refreshing to know how much she loved her. 

But watching her mother wasn't the only differences between the births. After watching her mother and family she had somehow managed to be sucked in sooner than expected. She knew she was born in the late night. It was a necessary step for any magical child to find out their moment of birth for various divination and mystical purposes. And yet mid-morning in she went and in she stayed. She felt the slight pressure of her mothers hand, the quiet whispered words of love and affection. Ginny only truly began to understand her mother in that week.

Up until this point she had always thought her mother cared but was overbearing in her way. Ginny loved her- but she still saw her mother as controlling. Now she saw she wasn't overbearing. Not at all- she was a loving mother; a very, very loving mother. One who loved them so much as to die for them seven times over. Ginny knew that now. How could she not, with the sheer love literally coming off of her mother in waves. Every moment she spent inside her mother, in cased in love, was a moment that passe4d too soon.

Ginny's last nine months had been an eye opener in many ways. In the seventh month she had found a secret the ministry kept deeply hidden in the Department of Mysteries. It added a new dimension to magic that she'd never seriously considered- heard but not considered. No Muggleborn had ever been born in Britain.

In a very secret room, locked by spells to keep out everything which breathed, had a pulse, a reflection, a physical touch and had hair (strangely enough)- but luckily for Ginny she had none of these, in a very secret Department, in a very secretive Ministry, in a very secret magical world their was a list which held all of the names of every Muggleborn to be born in Britain or retain a British Passport for the last 4 centuries. And that list also held at least 5 of their magical ancestors.

At first she'd been shocked, then puzzled. If the ministry knew this then why would they hide it? If purebloods knew this then why did they hide it? It would mean everyone was an equal in the magical community. Then it had hit her. There were two reasons that the ministry wouldn't want this.

Now, considering that the ministry was run by purebloods she saw the first. If they were all equal then when a Muggleborn was born they would have the same rights as the purebloods because essentially their blood made them on par with most elitists. Even Halfbloods had more rights than a Muggleborn in the overall way of things.

The second had to do with Gringotts. If all of the Muggleborn knew that they had magical ancestors they would be looking for their inheritance, and one of the Ministry's main money making schemes was to take the money out of ancestral vaults which didn't turn up a descendant for more than two centuries. Without that money the Ministry would be over budgeted for everything and suddenly have to cut back on everything- including salaries. Ginny had learnt a lot from her time at the Ministry and she knew that if there is one thing a politician hates to see cut it was a politician's budget. It would cause chaos.

Ginny had kept this fact to herself for the simple reason that right then she couldn't get a reply out for the two people she knew this would affect the most- Harry and Hermione. She wasn't sure if she dare even tell them though. This would effect Hermione so much it just wasn't fair- Harry less so be cause he already had one pureblood family branch but he was a Half-blood- it was his identity. Why was it her right to change that.

But then again, why was it her right to choose what information they were allowed to know? What gave her THAT right? Who was to say that it would impede on them? Hermione had been ridiculed for being a mere Muggleborn, a Mudblood- the liberation from that would be phenomenal. But that was irrelevant, she'd tell Hermione when she could reply. In just a short while Hermione would know.

It started rather suddenly and contrary to what some people tended to think- it was not the baby's choice of when to leave the mother's womb. It was firmly the mother's body. Ginny felt herself moving downward, head first, slowly toward the real world she had so eagerly waited for and thought what it would be like to have her body again? She hadn't been able to feel her magic for quite some time and she wanted it- she wanted to feel the magic again. She wanted to breathe again, she wanted to feel warm in her mothers arms, she wanted to see with real eyes and hear with real ears. She wanted to be real and here her chance was coming.

The pain started quickly and began to hurt the further down she went. She didn't particularly mind as it was the first time in years upon years that she had felt anything, but slowly it was building to intolerable. As she came out she felt the cold air touch her head and rapidly begin touching the rest of her. It was overwhelming and uncomfortable but she did not cry. Once she opened her eyes, which was unusual enough, they stayed open and they watched.

The Midwife found this child weird and disturbing- a baby who did not cry? It was just plain unnatural, but she said not a word as an adoring Molly held her first girl lovingly. The Weasley temper was famous across Britannia, the Prewett temper more so.

"Hello Ginny, oh how I've wanted to see you, my daughter" Ginny couldn't help but sigh as only a baby does. She smiled at her mother and watched the amazed look on her face as she did. Ginny planned to make her mother as amazed and surprised as she possibly could from now on.

* * *

Next Chapter: 

**Fawkes and the Formative Years of Lady Volonté **


	4. Fawkes and Lady Volonté

**Disclaimer** – The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

Lost Time

Chapter 4

**Fawkes and the Formative Years of Lady Volonté

* * *

**

Fawkes was pleased with itself, very much so. In facts if a Phoenix, for that is what Fawkes is, could have a smug look on his face he would have one on his face now. For you see, this wasn't the first of his lives. Well, he was a phoenix- they lived forever, but not like that- he'd been born- out of his egg, twice. Now if you knew anything about a phoenix you'd say this is impossible.

They were all from one batch of eggs at the beginning of time, lost alone and scared they had scattered to the outermost reaches of the world. Some remained pure white as they had all been born, as a symbol of their heavenly purity, some had taken on elements such as fire, water, earth and air, while still a few others had taken on the dark- to become the darkness that ensured a balance in the world, and one became a storm phoenix.

Obviously Fawkes had taken on Fire as his element. He didn't regret that, he never had. But when his original world had been on the brink of destruction he had been the only Phoenix to escape into this world. For that he would live twice. Two lives for a Phoenix was a long time.

In the year 1890, to the human calendar, Fawkes had come back to Britain, away from the fiery pits of Volcanoes, to save his former master as he'd done numerous times in his former life. He stayed with the young master but did not bond to him, as he'd once done. There was a resonance there from their last bond, but not enough of one to bind Fawkes. Albus had merely remarked that this was one of the wild Phoenix's who didn't require or want to bond to anyone. That had been enough for Albus; if the bird wanted to follow him he wouldn't stop it. And anyway- Albus thought to himself- a phoenix which saves your life, wether wild or bonded, is good no matter what the circumstance.

Therefore, Fawkes had watched the child turn into a teacher, a very horrible one to be honest. Albus had a gift with magic, that was true, but he did not have any sort of touch with teaching or children. Or at least he didn't to begin with. But in the late 1930's Dumbledore suddenly took on a new persona, for that was what it was- a taken on persona- not him, one of an old doddering fool. It increased his teaching abilities by leaps and bounds as the students found him funny and kindly, especially as he handed out lollies to the children. Fawkes saw through it, as he had to begin with. Albus was a fame seeker and manipulator if ever there was one. He'd bonded to him without knowing that to begin with, that would not happen this time.

In 1939 Albus had 'defeated' Grindelwald. The man had done nothing of the sort of course, but that's not how he'd said it. He had cast a banishing curse on Grindelwald and sent him into the Pacific Ocean apparently. What had really happened was that as a Crucio whirled past him Grindelwald had disappeared with a bang. There was no evidence what-so-ever that the famous Wizard had done anything and the dark lord had merely disappeared, giving up for some inconspicuous reason. It was just sad for Albus to say so, however the man had always been more of a Slytherin than a Gryffindor.

His personality did change quite a bit after the Riddle incident, which he'd had too much to do with. He'd suddenly found he was responsible for people and had luckily rescued Hagrid from a fate worse than death, Azkaban. He'd liked it and feared it at the same time. Before he was merely self involved, now he had people who depended on him, who he could control, and suddenly that funny feeling in the back of his mind and gut became stronger. He was responsible for them and suddenly he felt guilty, not something he'd felt before.

Fawkes did not comfort him as he'd once been forced to do out of duty. Now he watched the soon to be Headmaster with a look which merely told him to grow up. These were the emotions of a child thrust upon with responsibility. For his 80 or so years, Dumbledore was still a spoiled child from a wealthy and old family background. His younger brother had grown up responsibly, but Aberforth knew the temptations of power and having Albus as an example resisted them. He had a family in the Orkney Islands, which Albus sometimes visited. Fawkes had enjoyed the children quite a lot. They were sometimes more emotionally mature than the renowned Dumbledore.

Fawkes had watched out for Harry's father and mother. They came to Hogwarts in the autumn of 1972, in the same class but different houses. Lily was a Muggleborn but also a Slytherin; which meant that she was often ridiculed by her own housemates. This was typical of the Hogwarts system. Divide and conquer, every other decade or so a Muggleborn or Halfblood would be sorted into Slytherin and they'd attack him or her until they were hopelessly lonely and ostracised. It was these students who showed off what Slytherin was so well, being alone left them to become some of the greatest Witches and Wizards of their generations.

This had been Lily Evans until her fourth year when she became popular all of a sudden but she hadn't been the type of girl to reverse her own charm. She continued with her dark inventions, but took them under raps to remain popular school wide. It was brilliant really. A charm which influenced a person so much so that they would become your best friend and yet breached any and all Occlumency and bias. The drawback was that Lily had to make a constant and convincing act that she wanted to be their friend. Yes, Lily had been a genius.

James hadn't been anywhere near her for their first five years. That is until he turned into an Animagus. And not just himself, he'd turned the spineless and hopeless Peter Pettigrew into a rat Animagus though the boy had no actual talent for it. James had managed it so easily too, it was an impossible ability but it seemed James Potter had it. He was a gifted Transfiguration master, better than Dumbledore in certain ways.

Fawkes had also noticed young master Black. The Gryffindor one, he was smart, charismatic and a master of the Defence Against the Dark Arts. He produced a Patronus in his second year, quite a feat. He had his own genius' too, but he wasted it on pranking. He wasted his life as a thrill seeker. Fawkes didn't understand him, but didn't give it much thought. Sirius wasted his life in days; living each day like it was his last, and always being unprepared for what was coming next.

Then he saw Harry, floating along behind his mother and father at random times, talking to himself mostly, sometimes to the other ghosts, when they could see him. Fawkes hadn't tried to talk to him, he knew he could, he wanted to bond with the child when he had a body as he should have done to begin with. The pull was strong, but he felt it was not the correct time to bond yet.

Bonding had been instinctual to the first hatchlings. Some chose to while others did not. The White and Dark Phoenix's chose not to more than they chose to, while Water and Earth chose to stay to themselves almost exclusively and the Fire and Air were almost constantly with a human or other able bonded creature . There had been cases of bonding between Phoenix's, usually opposites; it was a rare and beautiful bonding to witness. But Fawkes had never felt the urge and so had assumed it was not for him, to him humans were for bonding.

Then they were gone, they left. Fawkes trustily watched a forever whining Headmaster with a mix between amusement and boredom. A year passed and he felt the urge, the desire to find Harry Potter and mark him as his bonded. This was the feeling, which the first time around had told him to go to Albus; it was the instinctual feeling that he was needed.

* * *

Harry was babbling to himself when it happened. Well, not really babbling, he was trying to teach himself how to talk. You would think it would be easy. He could think in rational sentences, he could understand complex reasoning but he could not open his mouth and say the words "Harry Potter" without it coming out like "ha-ha-ha-ha-re-ee-ee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e Pot-pot-pot-pot-pot-pot-pot-terr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr" mixed with involuntary random giggling sounds. As you can tell, Harry was not pleased at all. He was just up to the 'rr-r-r-rr-rr-rr-rr-r' when the flash of light distracted him. 

At first he thought- "Oh my god, Voldemort's come early- I'm dead, he's going to kill me now. I'm not prepared" The he realised that Voldemort didn't Apparate with fire, actually no one did. Only a Phoenix could. How very strange, was that Fawkes?

/-Yes, I am Fawkes.-/

/-Hello Fawkes, do you remember me?-/ Harry all but stuttered out mentally. It had taken Fawkes months before they'd even begun to talk in rational words like this. How was he doin it now?

/-Yes I do-/ He'd never have imagined that Fawkes would come to visit him as a baby.

/-What are you doing here? How did you manage to get here?-/

/-I got through at the same time as you did-/ Harry mentally froze up. Why hadn't he known?

/-Then what are you doing here?-/

/-I've come to bond with you.-/

/-Really? I thought you'd be bound to Dumbledore already?-/

/-Not this time. When I went through the portal, I ended back at my birth. I gathered you hadn't. When did you arrive here?-/

/-About three years ago.-/

/-That's odd timing- why?-/

/-For Fred and George's births, the six of us have been here since then.-/

/- The six?-/

/-You remember, the six of us? Hermione Ginny, Ron, the twins and I.-/

/-Why not Remus or Tonks?-/

/-I don't know. But I've seen Moony- he's how I imagined he would be in this timeline. He didn't notice me so I guess he didn't come back with us-/

/-I suppose we all came for our births. A new chance from the beginning.-/

/-How long have you been here then?-/

/-Beginning of time, millions of years now-/

/you never told me you were that old-/

/-It's a curse being so old, hate to talk about it. Not worth it really.-/

/-I hear you. It sucks being so young though. I still can't speak. So what does bonding involve?-/

/-Not much just a small exchange of magic. Take hold of my leg-/ Fawkes lowered himself down into the crib and Harry took a hold of the thin bird leg in his tiny hand. At first he felt like he'd been shocked by electricity, but as he tried to remove his hand he realised he couldn't. There was nothing he could do without harming himself or Fawkes, so Harry stopped struggling and accepted the momentary pain. That was when the power started to flow into him properly.

There were no words which could describe the feeling of liquid fire running through your veins, scorching you with the eternal flame and giving rebirth. It was wonderful and horrific at the same time. It was a baptism by fire if ever there had been. As the magic raced down his small chubby little arm travelled across his tiny shoulders and down the other before heading up towards the brain, Harry felt alive with magic and potential energy. The pain was immediate but Harry didn't cry out for fear of alerting his parents.

Not that that helped at all, a very bouncy Lily walked into the room to see her baby on fire while a Phoenix was trilling softly beside him. She was reasonably hysterical.

"Get away from my Baby!" Fawkes merely ignored her and continued trilling. As far as he was concerned there was nothing she could do now, it was almost complete. There was no way to disturb a bonding this far through. Even from this particular Dark Sorceress. She scrambled to grab the bird but merely burnt her hand. Being the dedicated mother she was, she continued to try to move the bird with blackened hands while the Phoenix did nothing. As the flame raced back to the Phoenix's frame a green sliver liquid scrambled up to the Phoenix, engulfing him in its green light.

As Lily saw this she realised what was happening and removed her hand, reluctantly as that was. Her little Harry was so special, but bonding to a Phoenix? At 5 months old- that was unheard of. There had been ten or so known cases within the last millennia of a wizard, fully grown mind you, finding a Phoenix to bond with. The bonding process was meant to be based on fate and magical power and Lily knew her Harry had both. As the green continued to hold the Phoenix, Lily looked down to her hands and watched them regrow with a dropped jaw. She'd been willing to lose her hands for her baby boy, but she was shocked to see them growing back.

Phoenix fire was one of the brightest and hottest flames in the world, able to incinerate entire bodies into ash within a heartbeat. How her hands had retained a semblance of shape was amazing enough, the fact that as she watched on, they were regrowing was simply unnatural. There was a faint green glow, as they finished and then nothing. No scar, no tell tail mark of burn, nothing just pink healthy skin. She looked down at her son in awe.

She knew it was Harry; some how, it was him that had healed her charcoaled hands. A faint green aura surrounded him and as it faded, he simply smiled up at her and she gave in to the urge to pick him up.

"What's happened?" Neither bird nor boy answered her, in the end she really didn't want to know and from that moment on the boy and the bird were inseparable.

* * *

Hermione's first year or two were strange for her parents. The girl was so very scarily brilliant, so very unnaturally quiet and odd things always happened around her. She watched them constantly, she smiled and giggled on only the first day and to top it all off she slept through the night immediately. The Grangers were delighted in some ways, disturbed in others but generally happy with their beautiful baby daughter. 

At the tender age of three Hermione had 'learnt' how to read and write, though a bit messily, it was legible. Her parents had merely given her a pen and paper, and this they thought, combined with the books she often played with and read out loud to them, had been enough for her to start writing out to do lists. Where she had learnt about the 'to do' list they didn't know. Aunty Jean was shocked and suggested taking them away from her while in contrast, Grandmother Hewitt watched on with a smile and merely nodded when a confused Jane had tried to explain.

Grandmother Hewitt was a part of Hermione's life more so than Jane would have expected too. She seemed to have been extremely pleased to have such a strange Grandchild and not once berated Hermione for reading aloud as she had Jane a few times in her childhood. Jane had gotten that from her father, and Hermione had gotten it from her mother. Grandmother Hewitt baby-sat almost constantly but this Jane assumed to be due to Jane's father dying a few years back and thought nothing more of it.

Anne watched on with a more careful eye. She had hoped that a child of Hermione's obvious talent would be born into the family again. After her birth as a Squib and her Mama's barrenness, she'd known what would have to happen. She was shipped out of the country to Brittain with her mother to hide from the pureblood circles her mother had once been apart of. Her father was still alive somewhere in France but her mother had died along time ago in the fight against Grindelwald. With her last connection to the Wizarding world cut, she'd married a War hero and moved on with her life. Now things could change.

Hermione was obviously a witch, that much was certain. When she required things they appeared, she was smart and she was obviously a fast learner. Anne herself hadn't been as smart as Hermione with half of the things the child could do until she was well past six nor Jane until she was eight. This of course had led her Mama to despair, as witch girls were often clever early on and much easier to control. Anne took it as a sign of Hermione's potential that she was so smart at such a very young age.

When her mother was gone, Anne taught Hermione little tricks pureblood children were supposed to be adept at. Little rhymes, which acted as spells, that her mother had taught her- regardless of wether they worked. A charm here and there which involved plants that could be gathered and blessed by her Granddaughter. But most importantly, Grandmother Hewitt remembered to teach Hermione that no matter what her mother said there was such a thing as magic and all one had to do to harness it was to believe. Hermione took to it better than a fish to water.

Hermione for her part listened to her Grandmother as she would any teacher at Hogwarts. She knew what she was learning was magic, she understood that her Grandmother must somehow know about the magical world but she didn't make the connections she should have. The first time around, she hadn't spent much time with her Grandmother. They hadn't told her Hermione was a witch, they'd been told not to tell extended family members before her first year, so Hermione merely took it at face value and nothing more. Looking back Hermione guessed she must have died thinking her Granddaughter was an ordinary girl who attended a prestigious boarding school up north. This time it would change.

She worried about Harry a lot, how he was- what he was doing. His circumstances could change at any moment, she knew. She knew that by now he'd already had to watch his parents die. It had been something that had to happen, she was sure of that, but it had left scars on him just as surely as it had the first time.

He'd come to her, passing through, in the winter of 82. The meeting had been nothing special but it had involved crying and much hugging. Of course, the Grangers never knew, as she could never hope to explain to them about a boy who just appeared. Harry had escaped the Dursley's, who had barely kept him alive up to that point and was currently moving from place to place, waiting for the Weasley boys to catch Pettigrew. That had been the last she had heard or seen from any of her friends.

They had no way of communication. None of them had Owls, nor could Hermione explain one's presence, and postal mail didn't run in the Wizarding world. This left Hermione to deal with the harder parts of living in a younger body by herself. She often wondered if they were even alive, on her more depressed days, but she tore through those days with magic, retraining herself magically into the Weapon she had been. This had the unexpected benefit of widening Hermione's magical potential beyond what it had been once she had grown up, not that she was aware of that fact.

Therefore, for the first five years of Hermione Jane Granger's life this was how things went. Hermione was depressed about her friends. Her magic brought her out of depression, decompressing itself from the tight ball of magic it began as, into a larger, more powerful core. Grandmother Hewitt taught Hermione magic, meaning to eventually tell her she was a witch. Hermione learnt the magic of a pureblood child while meaning to one day tell her Grandmother she was a witch and Jane and John Granger were left with a willing babysitter, clueless. It changed, however, in her sixth year of life. It was to be when she met her Great Grandfather.

* * *

The family was gathered, as they always were, for Christmas Eve dinner when he came. Aunty Jean was in Spain with a new boyfriend of hers and the Granger family and Grandmother Hewitt were sitting down to Christmas Eve dinner when from the door three knocks sounded, loud and hard. Jane's first reaction was to ask herself who would be so rude as to interrupt Christmas Eve. Anne's first thought was what could be important enough to interrupt Christmas Eve. Hermione's first thought was to wonder if she should be prepared to use magic on the intruder. 

Despite the ladies thoughts it was John who answered the door, Christmas hat and all.

"Hello?" He said as he looked up at the strangely dressed old man holding a Christmas present wrapped in what appeared to be paper with witch's hats on it. It honestly looked more like a Halloween present to him. On second thought, he looked like he'd bought a costume to match.

"Would this be the Granger residence?" The tall man asked the confused John. The older man was looking at him distastefully, which was odd, but said nothing but polite words. Best be polite, John thought silently. The Older man on the other hand was thinking that this young Muggle, for that is what he saw him as, was being plain rude for not inviting him in already- but then again you couldn't expect them to have many manors.

"Yes, this is Granger residence. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to see Anne Hewitt and possibly Miss Granger"

"Oh, ok. Won't you come in while I go and fetch them; we were just sitting down to dinner."

"I am sorry to interrupt." He said politely as was required. John found the old man old fashioned and decided to just go ahead and fetch them quickly so as not to appear rude. It didn't help him much. A few minutes later he was back with his wife and mother-in-law in tow. Anne Gasped.

"Papa" Looking at the old man she recognised their same nose and eyes. She'd inherited her mother's facial structure except for her eye colour and nose. That's how she knew it was her father, that and the one or two photo's here mother had kept which moved and shifted before a little girl's delighted eyes.

"Anne." Was his curt reply

"Mum?" Jane was confused. Who was this old man, and what was he doing here on Christmas Eve?

"Jane, dear I'd like you to meet your Grandfather. Grandfather Volonté. Hermione, this is your Great Grandfather. I assume you're here for her Papa?" There was just the tiniest hint of bitterness in that statement.

"Of course, She needs to be raised in the proper environment for a girl of her Heritage."

"Hermione will not leave."

"What are you talking about? My Hermione is staying with me!" Jane said, vivid with hurt at the implications she could not raise her own daughter. Accusing eyes turned to her mother "You said my Grandfather died in the First World War and Grandmother in the second."

"Your Grandmother, yes… your Grandfather no."

"So my amour is dead?"

"Mama died almost 50 years ago Papa. She has been dead for quite some time." The old man, Mr. Volonté it seemed, looked shell shocked.

"How?" Was the chocked response

"Grindelwald's forces, killed mother in a raid on our village. Mother defended me to them. Died from Cruciatus exposure,"

"Oh." There was an awkward pause "I knew, somehow, deep down I knew." Now that Jane had calmed down from the insinuation that Hermione would be taken away, John was more inclined to mind his manors.

"Well, Great Grandfather Volonté, would you care to join us for dinner. You do seem to be apart of the family." John asked politely.

"I would love to, if you have enough"

"We have enough, Papa. Come inside." John led the way to the Dinning room and they all sat down to an awkward silence. John was the first to address what he saw as the obvious question.

"If you're Grandmother Hewitt's father wouldn't that make you over a hundred?" This was said rather abruptly, which only led Mr. Volonté to further believe he was an imprudent, rude Muggle.

"This year I'm 132 years old. I was born on the first of February 1853."

"How is that possible?" Jane asked. Hermione was getting a sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach. From the moment she'd seen him she'd known he was a wizard. From the moment, her Grandmother had announced that he was her Great Grandfather she'd known that suddenly made her at least a Halfblood. She'd begun to panic almost straight away, silently. Of course, it did make a lot of sense logically. How her Grandmother who was apparently a Muggle knew spells, why she'd always felt so at home in the Wizarding world. Parts of the larger picture fitted together to make a very annoying puzzle.

"He's a wizard." Surprisingly it was Anne who said it. "Your Grandmother was a witch, and now Hermione is one too."

"Honey, you didn't know about this did you?" John asked Jane.

"This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you. But if they're Witches and Wizards then why aren't you, am I?"

"No dear. Anne was a Squib, born to magical parents without magical powers. You, I'd say, took up your mother's lot and stayed a Squib whereas Hermione inherited her powers as she was meant to." The way he said Squib was slightly derogatory. Using it like a dirty word.

"Papa! Where are your manors?"

"Where are mine! Imprudent child close your mouth before I do it for you."

"That's my mother you're talking to and she's hardly a child!"

"Thank you Jane I don't need to be defended. You, Papa, are a complete arse. I will not be silenced by an old dodder like you. I hardly think it appropriate for you to call me a child. I may be your flesh and blood, but we are of no other connection"

"Hold your tongue. You are still mine under law."

"When you sent me off to a strange foreign country, which ended up killing Mama and stranded me here with no contact to family, no friends, no money you reneged your rights to me. You left me like a pauper on the streets! I know you had tracking charms on me…"

"Of course I did. Don't you dare try to blame your Mama's death on me. You ruined our family. Your Mama was a wonderful woman who gave into her maternal urges. She chose her place in the world, and her choices eventually led to her death."

"How dare you say that? I was a child, I didn't have a choice! I can't help the way I was born and Mama did not choose to die. You chose to abandon us, you chose to alienate us and you chose not to send letters. It was your choices which killed Mama, not mine and certainly not Mama's!"

"Enough!" All eyes turned to Jane who was fuming silently. "Mother, Grandfather this is MY home and in it you'll treat each other civilly. Now if you're quiet done ruining Christmas Eve you'll remember that you're fighting in front of _Hermione. _Shut it." John was smiling at his wife while her elders merely stared for a moment before looking at Hermione and then at their plates. Even Mr. Volonté found it appropriate to stare at his plate in silence.

"Thank you honey, Anne would you like some more Potatoes?"

"Yes thank you" And so the dinner of Christmas Eve followed. Anne kept quiet, giving scathing glances at her father while he pretended she wasn't there and occasionally took the time to look at Hermione. Hermione, for her part ate her dinner quietly, shocked at the family displays of temper. This certainly had never happened in her first life and Hermione was wondering what she'd done differently to cause her Great Grandfather to appear. John and Jane chatted mildly between themselves, nervous.

"That was a wonderful meal, if I may complement the cook?"

"Thank you Grandfather, I was cook tonight" Jane responded blandly.

"You don't need magic to cook dinner" Anne managed to spit out before she blushed and looked away. Jane sent a quick glare at her mother before moving to collect the dishes.

"That will not be necessary. I will clean them." He took out a long wooden stick, which Hermione recognised as his wand and muttered a cleaning spell before sending them away with a variation of the banishment charm, which Hermione recognised, sent the dishes back to their designated resting points. That was a complicated charm, which most mothers didn't ever learn properly because of the required locator charms and complicated wand movement. Hermione had of course learnt it long ago. "Right now we have more complicated matters to attend to, perhaps out of earshot of the child?"

"No. Hermione's a bright girl and she can understand us perfectly well. I also assume that as this is a matter of… magic then she should be informed from the beginning." Anne told her disapproving father.

"She'll go for now. I'm not entirely sure I want her to hear this whole conversation. Hermione, go up to your room and play with your toys."

"Yes Mum" Hermione went to her room silently before casting a wandless spell to hear downstairs. She'd become adept at casting listening spells when she was first on her own as a fugitive. They were useful to know when you were in an uncertain area and wanted to know what the people around you were saying.

"This way." Was the first thing Hermione had heard, as the spell kicked in "What should I call you?"

"Dorian will be fine."

"Ok, Dorian, take a seat. Anywhere will be fine."

"Hermione will not be leaving her parents"

"I can understand your point of view but I don't think you fully appreciate what I want."

"You're trying to take my daughter from me that is all I need to know."

"If she is left alone right now she is classified as a Muggleborn with next to no rights among the Wizarding world. If family kin claim her she would be pureblood and Lady Volonté with the rights and lands which follow the name. My family has held extensive lands in France for 55 generations of Magical Lineage. I can arrange for documents in several Ministries to be modified and install her as the 56th generation of the pureblood Volonté family. She'd have social and economic power, blood ties to all of Europe, extensive wealth… Her opportunities would be endless."

She sat in her room as stiff as a board. She could have WHAT. In her head Hermione did the maths; 56 generations, assuming that each one had a long and healthy Wizarding life… that could go back to Christ! Blood ties, social and economic power? What she couldn't do with all of that. What _they_ couldn't do with all of that, the six of them. She could be as powerful as Dumbledore! Lady Volonté? Hermione didn't like the name particularly but still, she'd be a Lady. But would she want to be a Lady? Did she want to be Lady Volonté?

"And the catch is we just have to give her up? To a world, we've never seen and until this night hadn't known existed. I refuse to hand you my daughter ever. I'm not leaving her."

"He's willing to compromise." Anne said suddenly.

"No I am not; Hermione must come with me to be raised as a Pureblood." She wouldn't leave her parents for the world if she had to go off somewhere to become Lady Volonté than she'd just stay here with her parents.

"Papa, you would not have come all the way to Brittain, to a Muggle home on Christmas Eve if all you had to pitch was that. You didn't come to Mama's rescue, you didn't save me, you didn't come to my wedding, or your Grandchild's birth. Something else has happened. What?" Hermione's heart leaped.

"So it seems the Squib does have half a brain. Alright, let me be plain. The French Ministry of Magic is threatening to take the Volonté lands unless I can find a descendant based on the fact that I am over the age of tutelage and courting." Hermione's mind was whirling. She knew that statement, she knew where it was from, but she couldn't remember what it was about. She'd actually forgotten something like that!

"Excuse me?" There was a sigh.

"The age of tutelage and courting are the acceptable ages that I can still either produce an heir or teach one. It ends at one hundred and thirty. I am not able to have children or be able to teach them past that age by the laws. With the fact that Grindelwald and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cleared out a lot of the old families, the Ministry has been looking to claim all of the assets of Volonté estate. We don't have many allies among the pureblood circles anymore because the Volonté line has always been Neutral and Voldemort took out the rest of us. This was the Ministries newest and probably last attempt to take my families lands."

"So you came crawling to us?" Anne seemed rather pleased with this.

"No, I came with the proposition of taking your daughter as my heir and teaching her the basics now in exchange for my family to continue. I can still find another suitable heir if it comes to that."

"She stays with her parents." Anne said cruelly, coming in for the kill.

"Yes, she does but we can negotiate. You take her as your heir, you teach her about herself and her magic but we keep her here or we go with her. Either way she's not going to be in your custody do you agree?"

"If it comes down to it, I must agree"

"I want proof though"

"Proof of what?"

"That you won't separate Hermione from us, collateral if you will."

"Will a Wizards Oath be enough?"

"Wizards Oath…?"

"It's an oath that he has to abide by or he loses his magic, dear. And don't try anything fishy." Not for the first time that night, Dorian wished he'd never had Anne.

"I, Dorian Howley Volonté do swear on my magic that I shall not separate Hermione Jane Granger from her mother Jane…"

"Anne"

"Anne Granger and her father John…."

"Andrew"

"Andrew Granger. I swear this by my magic, So mote it be." Along the listening spell's lines there was a shiver as a large amount of magic was being sworn.

"And what are the details?"

"You will come to the Volonté manor and Hermione will be taught how to be the Lady Volonté"

"She will become a Lady as you've said, but I want her well rounded, she needs proper Muggle English education and to receive that she needs to be here, at least for part of the year. I'm more than willing to come to Volonté manor in the holidays and long weekends, but I refuse to uproot her from Muggle grounding. At very least"

"I really don't think you understand what I'm offering as a pureblood aristocrat. She needs year round education. She needs to be taught how to read and write in at least three languages, advanced Arithmetic, she'll need to be taught straight away to recognise any number of forms of magic and most importantly I need to find out if she has any of the family traits" Anne gasped at the same time as Hermione.

Hermione had never even thought about possibly holding a magical ability aside from her trusty wand. Had she neglected something so imperative the first time around? Could she have survived even a little bit longer if she'd known about her apparent Heritage? Her jaw set, she wasn't about to let an ability slip through her fingers this time.

"You think she might?"

"Her magical levels are well above average for her age. It's likely she has enough to activate them."

"Activate what?" John inquired.

"You wouldn't understand" Dorian said offhandedly. This made Hermione feel offended for them. Spending time with her Great Grandfather was going to be a problem if he acted like this constantly.

"We are Muggles not stupid!"

"A Squib dear, you're slightly above a Muggle." Her Grandmother Hewitt had just insulted her father. Maybe it was a bad family compulsion to offend each other "And she's quite right, Papa they aren't stupid"

"Well, you can waste your breath and try to explain, Anne, for I refuse."

"Very well" Hermione wanted to stomp down there in her childish way and stomp on her Great Grandfather's foot. "Family traits, as my mother taught me, are the Traits one inherits through magical lineage. Like your nose or eyes can be inherited so can certain magical powers. Animagi (people who can turn into animals at will), Metamorphmagi (people who can change their features at will), magical sight, the third eye (seeing the future), elemental sympathies and various other familiar traits run through families. They can come up of their own accord, but if you're born into a family with more of them you have a higher chance of getting them. Like occasionally a person from a family with brown hair will turn up a blonde head randomly. Mama told me that her side of the family had an indecent amount of born telepaths and fire elementals. She never told me Papa's side"

"We have had many, many empathic and telekinetic children on my side with the occasional Animagus."

"So Hermione could have one of those five?" Hermione felt a tingling run through her. She could be anything and she had no idea.

"Oh, she could have any one of millions of gifts, not restricted to the family ones. Generally people of this day and age have one, and that one is underdeveloped if even usable. I myself only have mild empathy, enough to feel extreme guilt or anger but none of the subtle emotions. But for the last five or so decades I've been looking into the matter and I believe I may have found some ways to stop that from happening as long as she is treated before she reached schooling age."

"She's nearly schooling age right now!"

"Wizarding schooling age is at 11. We have a while."

"Just how many gifts can she have?"

"Oh, I doubt she'll have anything more than three. It'd be amazing to see she did though. A good strong witch will be good for the line. Every generation counts."

"You're really into this, aren't you?"

"If you mean that to refer to my line, or my lineage than yes; our line is the most important thing to me."

"Do you plan to marry her to someone for their magical power or family abilities?" Mother said quietly, so Hermione had to strain to hear.

"Of course…"

"That's Eugenics. My father fought against racist suprematism in the second war and I refuse to hear a word of it. A quarter of Hermione's heritage is of the war hero's from my father's side defending this country and I will not let that fall apart. She'll grow up knowing that she is an equal because of her Grandfather."

"Be that as it may, my family has been breeding for the selective purpose of creating the best witches and wizards for as long as it has been in existence. Your family has been driving toward creating the most magically powerful children we could create. It has taken centuries of knowledge, will and power to keep the wheel turning. We survived the Witch burnings, we survived Christianity's onslaught, war upon war upon endless war, political upheaval and when France turned to revolution we survived against that too! It's your daughter's duty to marry young and marry well, to have as many children as she can and to make them all as powerful both magically and politically as she can. Do not fear, for she will live a happy long life, but she will not disgrace the family by discarding their legacy and stealing their money!"

"She hasn't and won't steal any of your precious money!" Anne spoke loudly, angry at her father. Hermione sat through this shocked. She didn't know what to think.

"You have no say over who she marries. She will choose her husband, when the time is right she can choose whoever she wants." Surprisingly it was Dad who said this. Dorian's voice faltered and lowered.

"Well, she may be given some choice, but ultimately I believe that she will make an informed decision and accept my point of view." Hermione saw this statement as what it was. He was plainly telling her family that he would try some sort of brainwashing on her to make her believe him. He had another thing coming if he thought he'd get away with that. There were a few moments of silence in which it was obvious to Hermione that everyone was looking at each other uncertainly. How she knew she pegged up to knowing her parents as well as she did.

"Dorian, here is your offer. What I think is most reasonable. John may disagree, but Hermione will continue along her non-magic life as if nothing has happened and in-between school we will go to you or you will come to us. If I hear a word, a single word, that she says you're pushing any sort of racism, be it that a Muggle child is inferior or she's better than everyone else I will cut your communication so quickly you'll see stars.

"You have the entire of Easter holidays, Christmas Holidays, the Summer Holidays and the four or five long-weekends she may have to teach her. I also want to know what you're teaching her. No curses that'll hurt someone or herself. She won't go to school until next September, so I suppose you'll have that too."

"Hermione needs to have the correct friends. Beauxbatons is usually the school of choice for Volonté children."

"Ok, where is it?"

"France"

"No."

"Then where would you prefer she went?"

"Hogwarts is rather closer" There was an obvious scoff from Great Grandfather Volonté.

"Please, that school is about as poorly run as any school can be. Run by Albus Dumbledore, traditionally his family has been closer to the dark side than was generally acceptable for a Neutral family- but this Albus went and blew that out of the water didn't he. Though, honestly, he's not entirely sane."

"I'm not so sure I want Hermione to go there then, if it's run by a lunatic"

"I would prefer if she was closer to us than not. Sending her all the way off to France is a bit much"

"Well, how long has he had the job, this Dumbleydory?"

"A little over half a century."

"Well, he sounds like he's on the way out. So Hogwarts it is!"

"We don't have to set this out right now. She won't be going to a magical school for another six or so years; if they run this wizardry and witchcraft school like they do with normal Muggle ones." Her mother always did come up with the most reasonable things. It was one of the many qualities she found admirable about her mother. "But what do we tell Jean?"

"Tell her your Great Grandfather has been found and you're trying to let Hermione grow up closer to him. The magical world is a secret from all those who need not know."

"Your Mama's words, not mine, yet true none the less"

* * *

Hermione soon learnt that she'd inherited her work ethic from a very serious and slightly over bearing Great Grandfather that up until a short while ago she hadn't known existed. Dorian Volonté was a harsh and often cruel taskmaster. For a few weeks, he came to the Granger residence; testing her for hours; taking blood samples, locks of hair, and various other body bits and pieces; and giving long-winded lectures about what she would have already learnt, had she been raised properly. For now, Hermione forgot those little jibes at her parents and simply tried to memorise his non-prejudiced words. It was hard but she managed. 

Dorian's first task, and the one he thought most urgent, was to find how many abilities Hermione had and then to find out which ways he should treat her to encourage each of them. It was no small workload, that's was for sure. To ascertain which abilities she had several spells had to be cast over and over again on her, her blood, hair, saliva, urine and even earwax. Some of the revealing charms were deadly to living organisms, so it was best to use them on fragments of the person, not the whole person. What he found left him rather shocked.

Hermione had five minor abilities and a sixth major one- his own in fact, empathy. Along with empathy, she had sympathy for lightning, natural Animagus potential, some small ability in Necromancy, certain aspects of magical sight and a partial ability in telekinesis. All of these had some sort of treatment to bring them to the fore of her magic except for Necromancy, which had to be carefully nurtured, letting her spend extended time with the dead and un-dead.

Dorian had no illusions about her parents' reaction to that news, so planned on simply, not telling them. The Volonté Manor grounds had a private cemetery and ghosts roamed freely, all of which would shed good light on the family and Hermione's duty to it. With certain subtlety, he could even feign to them that he had not known that Hermione was spending time with the dead. It was farfetched, but they were all basically Muggle and everyone knew about Muggle intelligence, or the lack thereof. He'd outsmart them in a heartbeat.

Of course, because of her affinity to the dead she would have to be taught blood magic. They were the groundings behind powerful necromancy and had the ability to manipulate blood itself. Blood magic could be a powerful tool to any witch or wizard but it wasn't taught for its darker tendencies. Dorian thought of the danger of giving that sort of knowledge to a 6 year old, but eventually shrugged it off. This would make her even more powerful witch and better for the bloodline.

Looking over the results he'd written down he saw that if Hermione hadn't had her power level so young, if she didn't have the treatments, then she wouldn't have had most of them. The Empathy probably would have manifested itself to make her more sympathetic and the Animagus form most likely would have faded only slightly, but that was about all he could see wouldn't have simply died with age. How lucky she was to have been found?

She had to be treated very carefully, Dorian realised, and for parts, mainly the necromancy and magical sight, she would have to be in his manor. He began working out what treatments he would use and how to convince his Granddaughter and her husband to come to the manor soon in his head.

"The sooner the better," he whispered quietly.

* * *

Hermione walked up the drive toward the large and foreboding Manor with a shiver. Manor seemed hardly fair; closer to castle was more honest. Why did winter have to be so cold, she thought, putting her gloved hands into her pockets. Shouldn't it be just a bit warmer here? They were in France, but that was all she had been able to gather from the tight-lipped conversations between her Great Grandfather and her mother. But as far as she could tell with what she had said they could be anywhere. 

They had arrived 'here', wherever 'here' was, by specialised portkey, which her Great Grandfather had assured her Grandmother was legal. The process had left them outside of the Manor gates, which at first her parents had not been able to see, very dizzy and disorientated. He had appeared a moment later and shrunk their bags, putting them in his pocket. He had proceeded to tell her mother where they were and much to their surprise, they had been able to see the gates. Hermione could almost feel her Great Grandfather's smugness.

Hermione wistfully looked to the sky, she planned to go out that night and see where in France they were by the stars, it was easy enough when you'd properly trained yourself. Maybe then, she'd have a better idea of where in France they were it was a big place after all. She looked straight ahead, taking in what detail she could about this foreboding Manor. This was her home, well her ancestral home anyway.

The house, from a distance, was various shades of grey ranging from a really dark charcoal to a light, almost white, grey highlighted with what appeared to be the occasional white, black and navy blue. As they walked closer, three stories became clear with two towers either side. Large foreboding windows looking out onto the landscape with an almost forlorn look- it wasn't the nicest or the happiest of Manors. In fact, it looked like it was right out of a horror novel.

The weather looked obliged to follow the manor's dour mood, and had suitably given a cloudy and overcast day to match the woeful house. How had Great Grandfather grown up in such a cold and sad looking house? Had he? What would her childhood have been like if Grandmother Hewitt hadn't been a squib? Would she have been forced to live here, to wither without light? Would she even have been born?

Hermione looked at her disturbed parents. It was written all across their faces, what they thought of the dreary place. She looked away from her parents and tried to concentrate on what was in front of her. The landscape was admittedly nicer than the house itself. It looked like it had been carefully maintained, and each plant chosen specifically for the right effect. However, that only made it worse for Hermione.

While the house was sad, the gardens were clean and looked well watered. To Hermione it seemed clear that these were not the products of her Great Grandfather or his predecessors, but more closely to the House Elves who must work here. The magic all but tickled her nose and screamed House Elf. She couldn't budge the feeling of disgust that came over her when she thought for a second of all the House Elves who'd been enslaved to make such a beautiful garden. Eventually it became too much for her and she couldn't bear to look at the gardens for a second longer.

A calm lake sat on the other side of the manor grounds; peeking out from behind the Manor. From a distance it alone seemed to be without some darker meaning. It was merely a lake, calm, quiet and reflecting its surroundings with an occasional ripple of fish and swaying reeds. Hermione instantly felt that this would be where she chose to hide from her otherwise dreary surroundings.

Their feet crunched on the gravelled drive. Dorian walked with them, though he was much quieter and seemed to barely whisper on the stones. He walked this stretch of land with an air of superiority. That alone allowed Hermione to see that he truly did fit in with this most gruesome of places. She shivered; how she felt she would grow to hate this man.

No one talked as they finally reached the front door to watch as it glided open silently. Hermione felt the slight tingle in the back of her mind which told her that it had been House Elf magic to open that door. She frowned.

"Come inside, I think you'll find it much more comfortable inside than outside." Hermione noticed her parents quickly walk in. They had no tolerance for the cold. Smiling indulgently, Hermione found herself agreeing with them.

Unfortunately, Hermione thought, the inside was not much better than the outside. There was an uncomfortable draft, even after the door closed silently behind her, the lighting was poor, only coming from the large fireplace in the corner and the colouring was the same outside as inside. The floor was hard marble, indistinct greyish in colour, and merely added another layer to the cold. There were three doors in the room; all painted a deeper shade of grey than the walls around them. Would it kill them to have one or two flashes of gold or maybe even crimson, Hermione asked silently? Something that wasn't so horribly dull and lifeless would be a relief.

"This is just so much better, Papa." Grandmother Hewitt spoke bitterly as she pulled her cloak around her tightly.

"You'll become accustomed. Would you prefer to be shown to your rooms now or sit in the lounge for a while?"

"I'd like to unpack my things if that's alright with you."

"Fine." He clicked his fingers and instantly the dreaded appeared. Hermione's stomach clenched. He was dressed in a patchy piece of brown material which had a hole in it for his head. "Atténuer, please escort the guests and Lady to their quarters." He reached into his pocket for four small boxes and threw them onto the ground, where they enlarged. "Take those up to the rooms with you. GO!" The elf, presumably named Atténuer, merely nodded and proceeded to stacking the luggage onto his head careful not to bounce anything too much.

"Follow Atténuer, madams, sir, Lady." He led them through the door, which was opposite the entrance door, balancing their luggage carefully as they walked.

"Do you need a hand with those, Atteneer?" Dad asked confused at the elf's antics. The Elf nearly dropped the bags, but managed to right it quickly. Hermione looked at him, smiling on the inside.

"No, sir, Atténuer is doing fine enough without help, sir."

"What are you?"

"Atténuer is being a House Elf, sir."

"A House Elf?" Mum asked.

"They're servants to Wizarding kind. They're born into their servitude and bind themselves to masters, magically, to survive. In return for service, the Elf gets magical sustenance it needs to survive. They need almost no food or sleep, merely an hour and a few mouthfuls of food. They live off of their master's magic." Mum and Dad simply stared at her while Atténuer pretended he hadn't heard like a good House Elf.

"How?"

"Mama, she taught me in case I ever encountered the magical world."

"Oh" Hermione shook her head in amazement, how could she have simply not known the first time about her Grandmother? And not for the first time Hermione wondered- had she known her Grandmother at all?

Through three more doors, up one flight of stairs, down another, up two more and they stopped in front of a hallway of rooms.

"This is being the rooms for guests. Lady be sleeping in the room second down on the left, sir and madam be in the third and madam in the second on the right. Will Atténuer be needing to unpack for sir, madams or miss?"

"No, we will be very happy to do it ourselves. Thankyou." Hermione cut in before her parents could say anything. Her Grandmother looked shocked for a second before merely nodding to Hermione.

"Then Atténuer will be going now. Snap fingers if you be needing help" And he was gone. There wasn't a snap or whistle- he simply wasn't there.

"Good girl, Hermione. Remember to mind your manors here even if your Great Grandfather will not." Grandmother Hewitt smiled before lugging her luggage into her room.

"Come on Hermione, let's go unpack that bag."

* * *

It was her first night and she was out of bed after her mother had tucked her in. It wasn't particularly hard to bypass the wards on her room without setting them off. Or side stepping the wards which alerted the master of the house when someone was sneaking around. These were the basic wards which should have stopped her from going outside, but they hadn't known about Hermione's past. How could they possibly know when technically it had never happened? How they would be shocked to see her do such things. 

As she was about to touch the front door a slight tingle ran up her arm and promptly zapped her. There was a ward on the door to prevent people from just opening and closing it, somehow she hadn't sensed it. Deciding the stargazing could wait another night, Hermione turned quickly to leave. Not quickly enough, she thought silently cursing herself for not sensing the doors magic's as a pair of luminous, tennis ball eyes looked up at her with curiosity.

"La mademoiselle n'est pas suppos tre hors de son lit." (1) The little Elf said to her, his head tilted to the side. He was dressed in the same brown piece of material with the hole for the head.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak French."

"Je ne parle pas anglais" (2) Hermione understood that immediately. If he was trying to speak to her in French it would lend credence to the possibility that he couldn't speak English.

"I think I understand that at least. Ok, if I remember correctly-" Hermione opened her mind and tried to direct her thoughts directly into the Elf's mind. That was how Fred and George had explained the process. She hoped this worked with non-humans.

/-Can you understand me?-/

"Oui" He looked at her, obviously terrified. The small French she did know was relieved. So this was working.

/-I want you to be very calm and quiet. Now try to respond to me mentally. Try to make me understand.-/

/-Miss, what be happening?-/

/-We are talking mentally. Now I want you to tell me your name.-/ she tried to be soothing with her mind, touching his mind with soft strokes.

/-Nez, Miss-/

/-Good, now Nez, would you please accompany me as I wish to see the stars. I only ask that you never speak a word of this to anyone, human or not-/

/-Yes Miss-/

/-Come along Nez-/ Hermione was doubtful for a second before her resolve stiffened. She knew that when a House Elf made a promise of any kind to a human it was a binding promise. It was unfortunate, but true. She skilfully brushed aside the ward as if it wasn't there and continued on. Wards, especially ones tied into blood she had in common, were easily removed when you knew they were there and had an in depth knowledge about the ward. Right now she had all three of those to back her up. Once the door opened, the cold night struck her like a fist. A whispered warming spell and she barely noticed it.

They walked around the Manor wall toward the lake. Hermione had thought it would be a nice place to think about things and calculate her position. Now she might even have a nice conversation with Nez.

" Est-ce que la mademoiselle a assez chaud?"(3)

/-Use the mind, I can't understand it otherwise-/

/-Yes, Miss. Is the Lady warm enough?-/

/-I am quite warm, thank you. Are you?-/

/-If you are, Miss-/ Hermione gave him a side look as they came to the edge of the lake. Deciding she didn't want a frostbitten House Elf on her conscience, she whispered the same warming spell she had done on herself. Nez showed no sign of acknowledgement. She searched around for a comfortable place to sit. She eventually settled on a nice log, which had fallen a bit away from the water's edge.

/-If Nez may speak?-/

/- Of course-/

/-How is Nez and the Lady speaking silently?-/

/-A gift I discovered.-/

/-Very good, Miss-/ He was silent, having received his answer. Hermione didn't like that he was silent, but gave up on that line of thought in favour of the stars. She stared up, looking through the patterns she could see with a calculating gleam in her eye. The night sky matched closely to what she would expect from the more northern end of France this time of year. North of Paris and a little bit to the west- if she knew her Geography she'd say close to Rouen. But then again she hadn't paid any sort of attention to this area since she was 17 when she'd been running through France, a lifetime ago now.

"Rouen"

/-The Manor is close to there, Miss-/

/-Thankyou Nez-/

/-Nez is pleased, Miss-/ There was a silence.

/-Tell me Nez, how long have you lived and worked here?-/

/-Nez is working at the master's Manor for his life, Miss-/

/-And how long has that been?-/

/-29 Feasts, Miss.-/

/-Feasts?-/

/-There's a Feast for every season, Miss-/ Hermione started the math in her head and was surprised to see he was just over seven.

/-How long do House Elves live?-/

/-Matriarch is being preparing 624 Feasts. Nez is thinking she will cook for another 400. Miss-/ Hermione had to stop and think. Six hundred and twenty-four divided by four was one hundred and fifty-six. Hermione knew with her travels that Wizards and Witches could endure age to nearly 300, even if that generally didn't happen because of all of the wars.

/-So you live as long as a Wizard, that makes sense.-/

/-House Elves is living until House Elf cannot cook, clean or is being useful, Miss.-/ Hermione wasn't surprised, but was none the less disgusted by Wizards for what they had done.

/-Are you happy, Nez?-/

/-Nez is being very happy, Miss.-/

/-Good, I think it's time I went back to my bedroom, would you care to escort me?-/

/-Nez would be happy to, Miss-/ they walked back into the Manor, leaving behind the cold night in exchange for a draft house. Hermione sidestepped and slipped through every ward without trouble and arrived at her bedroom door quickly.

/-I would be pleased if you would come when I call, Nez, thank you for escorting me. And not a word to my relatives or the other House Elves-/

/-Of course, Miss-/

"Dormez bien, Mademoiselle." (4) Hermione went back into her room and slept for the rest of the night.

* * *

Hermione sat in the dull room, her brown erratic hair highlighted by the morning sunlight streaming through the window. It looked like the day had cleared especially for her. Wether to tempt her to run out of the room or to make her warm Hermione didn't try to think about. Her Great Grandfather was brewing a potion for her and while he did he talked about what it was meant to do, its history and the reasons for its use. Hermione had already gathered a rough idea of what it would do to her, and wasn't looking forward to the experience. 

"…the potion of purification, or rather it's more accurate name the drink of distillation, has roots in Egypt where it was used to make the Pharaoh's blood pure and insure a healthy line. It was used among the children of nobility in Roman times, but with the onset of Christianity it became thought of as barbaric and taboo. To be brutally honest I would say that this should be used on every child of magical parentage more than half.

"But because you are just a quarter in magical bloods this will hurt you a bit more and last a bit longer. But never mind, Hermione, for I will be here to watch and make it as comfortable as possible…" She tuned out subconsciously. Hermione really didn't want to hear this, but decided that it made some sort of sense to listen and know what she was about to be subjected to. She grudgingly forced herself to tune back into his spiel.

"… and so it is the most obvious choice for you to keep our bloodline pure. Volonté must always be the best, our blood the most pure, our magic the strongest, our minds the most cunning, our eyes and ears the most keen. In the times that have passed, the reigns of various Dark Lords or Lady's we have always maintained our will to move forward, to be on the winning side, to never lose no matter what. You'll learn quickly that petty morals will only hold you back.

"Not that you shouldn't uphold your honour. Honour means everything to the line of the strong. With our honour, 'Planifier à l'avance' always remember that, Hermione. 'Planifier à l'avance' is the family maxim, as it's called. You must always remember those words. Soon enough we're going to have to teach you French. We'll get you started on that within the year, this language merely annoys me. Yes, so learn everything you possibly can, dear. Knowledge is power, but power is fleeting and knowledge is not and neither should our line be.

"This looks to be almost done" He added a cup of a white powder, what Hermione recognised as Crushed Bull Horn. "Now Hermione, when this potion is done I'm going to show you how to bottle any potion. Always check that the container won't affect the potion, wether it be made out of glass or gold. The best bottles are made of Platinum because of their low reaction to magical substances, but we only use that on solutions that are highly reactive.

"This potion will only react to blood and living tissue, so we can use a plain glass flask but we need to wear gloves, dragon hide or better. Generally, you should filter them into the flask, but here that's not necessary. I take the dipper and I fill it up in the cauldron, then I pour it into the flask. Try to make sure you do not spill it. Now that this flask is filled we'll store the rest in a larger bottle for your children." He waved his wand to dispel the contents into a large glass cauldron shaped bottle and so missed the bitter look on his Great Granddaughter's face.

"Always keep what you've made, even if it's a mistake. You can study your results to find out how you went wrong and even if you've invented a new potion. All of the greatest potions are made completely by accident. Our family always takes advantage of the situation, even if it's simply a happy accident." He turned to her with the flask in hand. "Come Hermione, we need to go down to the dungeons. I've prepared a room for you." With that, he walked out of the door and she followed. With every step, Hermione felt that she was coming closer and closer to her doom. She quickly began to convince herself that everything would be fine and that this wouldn't hurt any more than she would be used to.

They arrived in the grungy dungeons and walked through the maze of the manor before coming to a large bolted door. Great Grandfather opened the door to let her in with a creak. Hermione's stomach tossed and turned. In the centre of the room, was a steel table that slanted to one corner, where there was a large hole that connected to a pipe,that ended in a bottle. The walls were made of thick stone masonry, the very foundations of the house.

"Hermione, it'll be fine, don't worry. We are in the most magically secure room in the Manor. No one can hurt you here. Now I want you to go and lie down on that bench." Hermione did what she was told, albeit nervously. The door closed with a frightening bang "Now I'm going to restrain you, but don't try to move. You need to stay as still as possible. Good girl." He whispered the spells to restrain her and then tipped the potion down her throat.

The effect was immediate. The potion burnt her as if she was being burnt alive from the inside out. As it spread through her, she suddenly understood the hole in the bench. She was sweating, sweating so heavily that in moments she was completely drenched. However, she wasn't sweating water, she was sweating blood and her Great Grandfather was collecting it. The metallic smell sickened her.

Hermione screamed. She screamed louder, harder, and longer than she had ever screamed before. She screamed louder than she thought was possible for her small lungs and smaller voice box. She screamed higher than she thought the human ear should hear. The pain merely grew. She squeezed her eyes shut tight fighting against the pain screaming for release. As she screamed, she felt a part of her leaving. Desperately Hermione tried to hold on with her mind, with her magic, with her soul but it slipped through her fingers like water. When it had completely left her she felt empty, like a part of her was missing.

The gap slowly began to fill again; the emptiness being replaced with a burst of light behind her closed eyelids. The pain lessened, the emptiness filled while she began to cool, her blood drying and caking like a warm cacoon around her. Her eyes opened and she felt, for the first time, her magic coming out full force through her eyes. The feeling was amazing and dizzying, the colours more so. The room was lashing out in greens, whites, reds, and blues, and yellows, black, grey, silver, gold and purples.

They swirled, danced, spoke to her telling her of better, and worse, times when the Manor was younger, when the Manor was a castle, when the Manor wasn't a Manor at all. She heard, felt and saw all of these at the same time, but it was only a little disjointing where as the source of light in the room was filling her with dread. He was a grey mass of bitterness, anger, disappointment and inner pain. Flares of green and blue sparked from his grey mass. Parts of him were aqua and others were electric green.

"Is it over, Hermione?"

"Yes, Great Grandfather it is done" Her lips spoke without thought.

"Good, now concentrate on you how you usually see and feel; there's a good girl. It's time for you to get some sleep." Hermione's eye sight went back to normal as she thought about herself. She remembered why she was here and what had just happened before the colours. Before the magic, she corrected herself.

"What time is it?"

"Midnight"

"Good" As Hermione walked out the door, her blood falling off her in caked on layers, she realised that from now on the rest of her life would be irrevocably different. How could she possibly know how anyone would react to this version of Hermione Granger? Lady Volonté? She had powers at her disposal right now that she never had the first time, had never even tried to find. How had she seen even magic? Hermione had a lot of planning to do if she wanted to maintain any of her previous advantage.

* * *

**End Chapter**

**Rough Translations:**

(1)The miss is not to be out of bed

(2)I don't speak English

(3)Is the miss warm enough?

(4)Sleep well, Miss

**A/N**: I have recently found out my translations are horrible horribly inaccurate. If you know how to translate better- send me the phrase and I'll change it- if not then deal with it.

Special thankyou to Drider Queen for their helpful translations and everyone who offered.

Next Chapter: **The Peculiarities of being a Weasley**


	5. The Peculiarities of being a Weasley

**Disclaimer** – The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

Lost Time

Chapter 5

**The Peculiarities of being a Weasley**

* * *

The Weasley Clan, as far as clan's went in this day and age of Wizarding lethargy, was fairly predictable. They always had red hair, they were all light Wizards, they were all Gryffindor's, they were always poor, there were always more children than could be afforded, they were all magically average, they all had underpaying- boring- jobs, they didn't have much cunning, they were all brash, they were all fool hardy, they all had tempers, they always had boys and they always feuded with anyone who happened to be Malfoy blood on principal. Those who had watched, waited and seen these family tendencies, had suspected that they were somehow cursed to live by these rules- and they were right, in a general way. But soon they would be very shocked- for in this generation- something had changed. 

Something no one had predicted, no one had manipulated, and wouldn't have happened unless the impossible had- but the impossible _had_ happened and the laws by which the Weasley family had always lived by were about to be broken. Broken and unwound, slowly crumbling around the clan like a mud prison cracking a falling away. Some rules are meant to be broken, some are not.

The first to break the rules were twins. They were a set of twins who would one day be renowned for breaking rules. Two beautiful baby boys had come into the world as Weasley's and from the very first moment they had been outside the Weasley curse. They had been smart, cunning and magically powerful from the very first second they had emerged from the mother's womb. The Anti-Weasley's had been born and had started to release the curse.

The immediate effect had been to affect the unaware children, as they were the least set in their ways. Percy was the most changed to begin with. His magic began to violently erupt at random points, causing his mother to despair as he broke plate after glass after spoon with accidental magic. Charley was changed moderately- not nearly enough to cause the mayhem baby Percy did. His magic loosened, his mind expanded and his heart darkened. Bill was least effected of the children and merely his natural brash bravery evaporated in exchange for a streak of hard work ethic.

Two years of gradual change passed and the next to come was a happy young boy named Ronald. For the second time in one generation the curse lessened as a boy was born into the Weasley clan who was not magically weak. He was actually a tiny bit more magically strong than any of his siblings- even Bill. The small boy had a tactical mind and was smart enough to know when he was defeated. And so the members of clan Weasley changed again.

Toddlers George and Fred's, or as they were already calling themselves- slurred- Forge and Gred, magic's expanded swiftly though various factors which otherwise would not have occurred. They ranged from things as simple as being more magically minded to active practice of wandless magic. As the magic within them expanded it allowed them to gain a taste of a magic they had never known before, natural invisibility.

The twins had stared in wonder as the ability had manifested while their mother was yelling at them for stealing from the vegetable patch. Such things were common even at the tiny age of two- what was not common was for them to start to disappear. She'd seen the disappearing act and gasped. Quickly the whole family had been alerted about the twin's new ability and they had suitably tested the other children in case more was to be found. Unfortunately overlooking anything else the twins may have had, not that any of them had given that thought.

Percy had been the next to be discovered. Ronald's birth had been the last straw for Percy's magical core. It had been enough to fill out a telekinetic ability. One Molly had quickly seen and pointed out. Three out of five boys had unusual magical abilities. From there it seemed inevitable that the eldest should have something. Percy was just happy to not be plain next to his younger siblings, as he once would have been. It was at this moment that the Twins and Percy began drifting closer together as friends.

Charley was tested and exclaimed over to be found containing the darker trait of natural Legilimency. His father had been shocked out of his mind to hear the word come from Molly's dropped jaw. Charley hadn't taken it well to begin with, until his father had assured him that he was still a good boy, merely that he would be tempted. Charley's fate from that moment was set in stone. Charley vowed to resist all temptation. But on the edges of his perception he knew he would never simply let it go- he would always control it. From that moment Charley's first inner demon was born.

Four out of Five and the Weasley clan Matriarch was waiting with baited breath to hear what wonder her eldest would be. He was, most surprisingly, given to an ability which was thought long extinct- a finder! The last recorded finder had died in the rise of the Dark Lady Tang over six centuries ago. In fact the ability was so old that Molly and Arthur had had to go through several galleons worth of books to find out what the result of the revealing charm had been and then a few shiny silvers to find out what on earth a finder was.

To say the Weasley family had been ecstatic would have been an understatement. Finders were always big money earners, the ability to find anything given the resources was sought after by every major organisation in the world. The power that could come from his discoveries! Molly had told her son to keep quiet for fear of abduction- for their times were still dark- while Arthur and Molly had smiled privately and realised that their oldest son would make something of himself. It was possible that now all of the boys may have a means to support themselves in their lives- though the two did not think too deeply of what the Twins would do with their ability.

Unbeknown to Molly and Arthur they had overlooked their youngest, who had blissfully ignored the fact and simply smiled his own little happy smile. He would enjoy his parent's happiness, however long it may last and whatever the cause. He didn't realise what he'd just done for his family, and neither did they- a happy accident it appeared to be.

After the effects of Ron, George and Fred, all one needs is an imagination to realise what happened when Ginny came into the world. The first female Weasley in over 5 generations, if one cared to look. She was a happy, quiet, playful and boisterous child. And her gift to her brothers by her mere presence had been to destroy the curse which would have otherwise restricted their growth into pre-ordained patterns and the growth of all of their children.

They didn't feel the difference, but Arthur saw it. Plain and clear, it was written all over his wages. He was promoted, not once but twice, to head of Goblin Liaison, where he worked to open up the communications channels between the species. It was a high paying job, generally reserved for members of the Minister of Magic's family members, enough to easily pay for their family expenses, even with all nine of them, and enough left over to properly save up so the children could go to school dressed and equipped properly. Arthur had taken the job if only for that reason.

Molly, unbound by blood if not by magic, saw no sudden differences personally; but she did notice the pleasant and lovely children she had. Percy had always been a bit needy, but still a dear, kind child. But as the Twins and he became closer he became less needy and more mischievous. He wasn't as much of a brat or as daring as the twins, but he was nicely boisterous now.

The twins themselves, with their invisibility, were almost impossible to stop from pranking and playing tricks- but they did make their mother laugh, and laugh loudly. They stole and mixed things up, but they knew where the line was. They knew how far they could push the line, and so they stopped before they got there. Sometimes they got close to meltdown- but never as close as they once remembered they had.

Charley became slightly more introvert for a long time after his abilities had become obvious. The Twins, God bless, had brought him out of this after a while. Molly had been concerned to begin with, but as her happy little grubby boy came back to her she was left to smile. Those Twins had become the glue that held clan Weasley together, she thought briefly before she realised the sugar and flour had been switched. Drat.

Charley, who didn't use his powers on his siblings by principal, became good at reading animals. His affinity to non-humans grew as he practiced. His understanding's becoming as diverse as the animal life around the Burrow. He was left to practice on animals and had often been seen wandering around their fields with Bill by his side, reading over the animals his brother could find. Practicing and controlling his gift.

Bill likewise chose not to lose his rare and useful gift. Wether it was to reverse a trick his little brothers had played on his mother or to help his dad get ready for work, he did what he could and helped. He found animal after animal for Charley to read. In exchange Charley told him how animals thought and gave him insights into the world. Bill particularly liked his youngest brother, Ron. The little tyke would laugh and giggle at the faces Bill made for him. As time went by Bill found himself babysitting for his mother when she had to dash to the shops or take care of the Twins in some way.

Ron spent his time as an infant playing with his older brother Bill. Babbling and practicing his words became fun when Bill laughed at every little word. Every once and a while Ron would float his toys for Bill to watch in amazement- Bill merely remarked it as accidental magic, but was still amazed at his little brother. The power it usually took for a baby to use accidental magic left them tired and sleepy- normal children couldn't hold accidental magic at all. That much Bill knew and in that way he found Ron to be amazing. When Ginny came along, Ron spent a lot of his time watching over her when she slept and generally being an older brother.

Ginny; bright, magically gifted and happy as she was- spent her first months as a baby with her mother. Laughing, giggling, sighing and doing anything and everything to make her mother happy and smile. The connection between mother and daughter was unnaturally strong, lending credence to the idea Ginny and Harry had once had so long ago about a mother wanting a daughter so badly.

Once Mother and daughter had properly bonded, it was her siblings' turns to express their joy at having a little sister. Bill showed it by giving her things he thought a little girl might want one day. A pretty necklace he found in the field, a doll he'd found and cleaned in the attic. The Twins showed it by tickling her and making rude faces to Ginny's delight. Percy chose to entertain her by moving things around for her heedlessly, spiral patterns of lint and the occasional toy. Ginny didn't actually find this very amusing- but humoured him on the basis that it would seem to favour her other brothers more. It was sweet of him to try. Ron was too small to do anything aside from wandless magic which he knew wouldn't entertain her- and so decided to simply be her company when the others got bored of her.

Charley was the last to show interest in his little sister and it hadn't been to entertain her. In the middle of the night he had snuck out of his room and into his sister's nursery which she shared with Ron until he was old enough to have his own room. He then went and he visited her, nightclothes and all. Not a word was said, but by the end of the night- Charley found his little sister immensely more interesting.

Her mind was like a fortress. He had seen the walls and simply backed out. Charley first assumed that this must be how all human minds were instead of the rambled mess of animal minds. He'd then compared it to Percy's mind and was surprised to find Percy had the mind of an animal. The second conclusion, and closer to the truth, was that Ginny was special. She had avoided his probing mind with a defence to match his attacks. He was confused and yet he couldn't tell anyone. He knew his mother and father wouldn't approve- no matter the circumstances or result. Most children his age wouldn't understand this, but Charley did- he was very smart for his 7 years of age.

And so he had snuck to his little sister in the day, to meet her mind when she was awake and aware. It proved an interesting encounter. Ginny had mentally frozen in shock when her brother's mind appeared in her mind's eye. She couldn't think quickly enough to somehow hide the fortress and she couldn't evade him once he was in her mind. Her dilemma of what to do was ended quickly when Charley came to her impassable fortress walls and shouted:

/Where is Ginevra Weasley/ Biting her lip and setting her jaw, Ginny moved past her walls and into the forefront of her mind. She knew this wasn't the smartest thing to do- but she had decided that this was what she was going to do. Her mental picture of herself was as she had been before she had died and left the little boy in front of her confused.

/I am here- Charley, call me Ginny/

/You're not my sister. My sister's not even a year old and you look older than Bill/

/It's a long story, but if I remember correctly- you're not meant to be here to begin with. Mum and Dad don't mind you reading animal minds but they'll certainly care when you come into your infant sister's mind./

/Maybe- but I can deal with that if you don't tell me why this/ He waved his hand around /whole place is so strange./ Ginny looked deep into his eyes and tried to judge what she should tell him. Eventually she settled on a half truth.

/This is my mind, and this/ She pointed down at herself /is how I one day will become. It's a secret you have to keep to yourself./

/What do I get if I do keep this a secret/ she hadn't expected this turn of events. Since when did Charley become so clearly cunning? Blackmail? She was slightly proud of her brother who was only being realistic, a trait which would have been nice for the family to have the first time around.

/What do you want/

/What can you give me/ She only needed to give it a brief thought. Charley could use this for himself.

/I can teach you magic./

/I don't have a wand/

/Magic you can do without a wand and a bit of concentration. Stuff Bill won't learn for another two years or so. How about that, I'm sure you'd like that/

/Wow! Really! Wandless/ And so that practical and cool façade falls in the way of excitement. Ginny almost sighed in exasperation. Children were all so predictable. He'd grow out of it hopefully. Well at least now he was agreeable.

/Yes, but if I give you this teaching you must promise not to look into people's minds without permission until you're much older or it's a serious reason. They have private things in their minds and they have rights to keep them private. And you can't reveal that you can do Wandless to anyone, even at Hogwarts/

/Yes! Yes, I'll do anything/

/That won't be necessary, now do we have a deal/

/Yes, it's a deal/

/Good. We'll talk later, I want to get some sleep./ And that had been that. Charley came to his younger sister to learn Wandless magic which was made easier because of his skill in Legilimency.

* * *

When word had reached the burrow that the Darkest Lord of their time had fallen- the Weasley's had counted themselves lucky to be alive still. Most family's had lost several family members, some had been wiped out completely- but the Weasley and Prewett family's had both been somewhere in the middle- yet still utterly devastated. 

Molly had lost her two brothers, an Uncle and her older parents early on in the war while Arthur had lost one of his brothers while the other was seriously debilitated with the loss of his wand arm. He'd left the Wizarding world and cursed it several times, but sometimes sent letters to Arthur through Muggle Post- which delighted him. His parents had moved to the America's to escape the war- but were settled down now in their new home and had no plans on moving back.

This left Molly with a Great Uncle and his grown up children left to hold the Prewett name and left Arthur as the only living Weasley in Magical Brittain. Neither was at all happy to know these things.

The first thing the Weasley family did, after Voldemort's defeat, was to start looking for tutors for their special little boys. Molly and Arthur knew a few things for Percy about his ability from more advanced spell work- but as for the rest of his gifts properties or the others- they had no idea. Previously they had been afraid to become targets- but now with no You-Know-Who to pick them off they felt safe enough to give their sons special training- or as much of it as they could afford.

Tutors were people the parents brought in when their children needed to be taught in magic that they did not understand or know well enough to teach. This practice was time old- older than the Hogwarts traditions- most said older than Merlin- and certain old rules which were strictly followed.

The first and most followed were the rules of secrecy. A tutor was not allowed to ever disclose information about a student or a student about a tutor. This rule was one that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had broken which enraged and scared most of the pureblood families. If it became widespread about which families had which abilities it would bring unwanted exposure to many of their darker traits and talents.

The second were the rules of talent. A witch was not allowed to teach any talent which had masculine aspects to a wizard and a wizard was not allowed to teach any talent which had feminine aspects to a witch. However a witch could teach an ability which had masculine feature to a witch and a wizard could teach an ability which had feminine aspects to a wizard. If a child was born with more than one talent a child should also be taught all of these talents. This usually meant that if a child had multiple abilities then they should have more than one tutor. Some did not, but that just meant that their tutors had the same abilities as they did, which was rare.

The third were the rules of employment. If a tutor wished to end their employment, they were obliged to allow the parents to obliviate them of all information about the children and their abilities. If a parent wished to fire their tutor they were obliged to ask to have the tutor's memories erased by a third party. If the child no longer needed the training both parties were obliged to take parting potions which bound memories of dealing with each other within a sort of side memory- which couldn't be accessed unless talking to that person. Such a potion was hard to make- but they were kept on hand at the ministry for such occasions.

And fourth were the rules of payment. A tutor was to be paid by their abilities strength. So if a tutor had a partial ability in Metamorphmagi- they were paid half of what a full Metamorphmagi would be paid. The rarer the tutor's ability the higher the pay was. The older the tutor the higher the pay was. A partial Legilimens who is 20 years old would make about 4 galleons an hour whereas a partial Metamorphmagus who's 20 years old will make about 8 galleons an hour and a full Metamorphmagus who's 100 years old will make about 40 galleons an hour. Considering a Witch or Wizard could reach their 200th birthday this amount could climb considerably.

Percy's ability was common enough, the Twins ability simple enough and Charley's learnable that they found a tutor for them quickly and discreetly. Bill's was harder given the fact that it hadn't come up for the last few centuries and eventually Molly took up the task herself- using several old expensive books on the subject to expand his knowledge of himself and the applications of his power.

Molly's lessons to Bill went rather peacefully- the two tutors', however- did not. The Twins- of course- were their usual selves when they encountered the nice, spritely, older man who had the ability to turn his face invisible- rude. He taught the boys how to cut their powers down so that they could make their hands, their noses, or even their eyes invisible. It was when he insulted their mother that things went downhill. He called her a wobbler, fat, and the Twins hadn't taken it well. They turned completely invisible, managing to make their clothes invisible too (not a small feat), and started to trip, slap and even bite him. He found the experience to be quite enough- and requested to be obliviated.

Charley's tutor wasn't so nice. Her name was Mrs. Bores, she was telekinetic and had learnt the art of Occlumency to focus her mind better and allow more precision with her first ability. Occlumens often became mild Legilimens because they needed to know how attackers thought to defend properly. She therefore had taken up the job of teaching Charley how to use his Ligilimency and Percy how to use his Telekinesis. Charley felt that he was best off trying to be as polite and courteous as possible while Percy felt that he should try to impress her. Neither one did.

Her first mistake, with Charley, was to mix up his name with Percy. Her second, and arguably worse, was to ask Charley, from the start, to attack and read her mind as best he could- not holding anything back. Her defences hadn't lasted a second. Within just seconds Charley knew everything she knew about Ligilimency and Telekinesis, which had been at the forefront of her mind, and bit and pieces of personal information. Her mind hadn't been nearly as well protected as he'd remembered Ginny's had been. When Charley left her mind he found her lying on the floor, panting.

"Get… away… from me!" She'd all but screamed as she panted desperately. "Monster" Charley ran out of the room at a deadbolt to his mother who had found she was holding a crying, shaking boy. Mrs. Weasley had not been pleased and had gone off in a towering rage to yell a Mrs. Bores out of the house screaming at her to have her memories removed. She'd succeeded and after the Twins debacle with their tutor- had bit her lip and began the search for more books on magical children.

Molly Weasley sighed as she took another book out and began reading. It was going to be a long couple of years.

* * *

It was the January winter of 1982 and a harsh storm of white encircled the Burrow. It was a few days after New Year and the winter was cold and bitter, so it was with concern that George had found Harry sitting outside his window at night. This only confused George as there was no way to climb up or down from the window (he should know, he'd tried time after time) and with the wind as loud as it was it was easy to assume broom flight would be hard. 

He opened the window and Harry tumbled in, shivering from head to toe.

"You know I do love to see you Harry- but you can't just keep dropping by" George said with a smirk as he helped the seriously cold boy. George was concerned, but maintained his calm collective while leading Harry to the closest bed, which happened to be Fred's. He quietly sent a message to his twin /Fred- its Harry/

/Coming/ a moment later Fred entered to see Harry Potter with blue lips. "Christ Fred. Give him a knock or two on the head, did you? Long time no see! What, no post cards? Not even a letter?" He smiled smugly at the smaller boy and began chanting all of the restorative and heating spells and charms he could cast and remember as fast and with as much power as he could. He took a deep breath and continued his banter. " Who'd you fight this time? Did you go after that blasted Abnormal snow man you're always going on about? You should have waited another month or two- when he was weak. How did you get here?"

"I tried to stay for as long as I could with those… those filth, filth, filth. I had to leave. I had to leave, I had to leave. I needed to get away from them, them, them" He was muttering and his teeth were chattering loudly. Fred and George shared a look. That sort of talk was a bad sign.

"I think he's had a knock or two too many. A Pepper Up Potion would do nicely to fix that up." Fred said quickly between spells. He was the twin with the best grasp on medical magic while Ginny was perhaps the best of them all. The colour was coming back to Harry, but he was still pale and blue around the edges.

"Getting them." Fred realised he wasn't fooling anyone and Harry was delirious anyway- so there was no point acting, if only for a second.

"I wish Ginny were old enough, but as it is we're probably the best suited to it. Hermione would be a help too. Ginny can't do any of the complicated spells yet." He took a breath to begin on another ream of spells he hoped would make it better if not simply stabilise him. _"Tepidus, Permissum vos exsisto tepidus quod ago, Valeo, Permissum haud vulnero exsisto proprius, Valeo, Tepidus,_ _Bod chynhesa, sein wohlauf "_ Fred was relieved to hear George coming upstairs presumably with Pepper Up Potions.

"Here we are, Harry. Hope you didn't mind the wait. Saw a friend on my way back up." The fake smile was ruined as he quickly crossed the room. Fred took the potions and administered them with amusement as steam rushed out of Harry's ears not once but twice from just one dose. The smiles on the boys faces became a little less forced as the colour came back quickly to Harry's cheeks. Fred gave him another and watched as the colour fully returned to Harry's previously blue lips, the Twins smiled. "Seems to have done the trick, that one. Good thing Mum's such a good brewer, what with how that thing knocked you around."

"So chap, what brings you here on this lovely eve?"

"The beautiful stars? The cloudless night?"

"Maybe moonshine?"

"That nice chill that comes on such beautiful nights?"

"The warmth of our fire lit home?"

"Or just the view of us? Our company?" Harry finally regained enough sense to banter back. He was dizzy and out of sorts, but the headache was receding quickly.

"Don't flatter yourselves, boys- your company isn't that great. I got bored so decided to leave ahead of schedule, any word from the rat?" He was anxious and it showed on his face. Both boys were concerned. All three of them knew that one did not show emotions in front of the other males unless it was serious- male pride and all that riff-raff.

"Not a whisper." Harry sighed.

"Then I guess I'm going to have to continue my travels" He turned toward the window to hear an ominous howling sound before his legs practically gave way. The Twins had to dash to catch him. "Perhaps in the morning."

"Perhaps. And you know how Gin will react if we told her you turned up knocked around and then left without saying hello."

"Has she started talking yet?"

"She's starting, yes."

"Did she tell you about us being cl…?"

"You, mate- can worry about Ginny and Ron later. Now you get in that bed and I'll hide you, ok. We'll see you in the morning" Harry nodded and followed his directions. To be honest, Harry was exhausted.

* * *

"Harry, time to wake up mate." Fred was shaking Harry out of bed. Blearily Harry opened his eyes as he smelt something he'd missed. 

"What time is it?"

"It's just after nine in the morning. We brought you some breakfast." George set the plate on the bedside table. "You're in luck, she cooked bacon this morning."

"She was in a good mood" Harry dug into it quickly ravished from last night's travels. The taste was amazing after so long of barely eating anything real.

"What- did you stop pranking her?" He said between mouthfuls.

"Pranking?"

"You don't know us at all- do you?"

"Would we Prank?"

"No- I don't believe we would"

"How could you even insinuate?"

"We bring you breakfast in bed and you mock us!" Harry almost chocked on his eggs as he heard that before sputtering and laughing uncontrollably. Luckily enough, the Twins had had the sense to ward the door last night with several spells- including silencers. After a while he calmed and finished his dinner.

"We can sneak you into the nursery"

"But we'll have to be careful Mum doesn't come in."

"That storm's cleared out"

"-but I think you need to find somewhere else to hide."

"Don't worry about it guys, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to live here! I'm just passing through. I haven't decided where to go from here though."

"Right old mate. Come on then," The twins were careful as they scouted the hall and snuck Harry into the Nursery. They weren't, however, smart enough to check the nursery and so their pains had been in vain. This only became apparent when a toy dropped from the air with a squeak.

"Percy!"

"Fred, George- who's that?"

"Don't worry about it." Fred did a quick sleeping charm on his brother before he began to remove memories about this incident.

"Ron, Ginny- guess what we found the other day?" The baby and the toddler looked at their brother in scepticism.

"Spit it out" Ron said

"Spii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-t!"

"We found Harry!"

"Haaaaaaaaaaaareeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Harry! I thought you said you'd stay with the Dursley's until we caught Sirius." Ron got up and promptly and gave Harry a slap on the back, grinning widely.

"That was the plan. I got bored and left." Ginny realised that he was lying and worked out in her head why he would be lying. Her jaw, without teeth, set.

"Cool, so where are you going to be staying until we can find the Rat?" Ron sat back down to play absentmindedly with his ragged toys while he looked up at Harry.

"I was thinking around here might be a good idea. So I know when Peter's caught…"

"Not a smart idea, Harry." Fred said quickly.

"Definitely not a smart idea. If Mum and Dad find you they'll take you to Dumbledore"

"-faster than they can Apparate."

"They wouldn't be looking,"

"-but Mum knows this place better than any of us."

"Fred and George are right, Harry- it's not safe."

"Freyd Geooooooooooooooooooooooooorge!"

"Ginny agrees."

"Ok, if not around here- then where?"

"Have you seen Hermione?"

"Yes, she's fine- if a little depressed away from everyone."

"Good. Well, maybe you can stay there?"

"No. The Grangers will take me to Muggle Police and the Police would take me to the Dursley's."

"Well, if you can't hide out with Muggles or Wizards, then you need to go off into hiding away from both of them." Ron pointed out. "How about a nice Muggle Forest?"

"It might be the best idea"

"But what about food Ronnikens?"

"Can't have him going and starving"

"I can set traps for animals- small things, and transfigure them into proper food. It shouldn't be hard."

"We've lived"

"Off worse"

"No-o-o-o-ot So-o-oo-oo-oo-o sm-sm-s-m-sm-sm-sm-sm-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-al-ll!"

"Ginny's right. Harry Mate- you're growing up and this season isn't a good time to go outdoors. With the smaller rations of food… You could seriously stunt your magical and physical development."

"Then where do you propose I go! The magical world must be searching for me, the Muggle world is trying to send me back to that awful lot and in between there isn't enough food to go around!"

"Calm down mate"

"We may have a solution."

"A spell to transfer the contents"

"Of one bag into"

"The other, is on the tip of our tongues"

"We fill it up with Mum's food every day during meals"

"And you eat like a king!"

"She always cooks food for an army. She won't notice a bit extra than usual."

"But that doesn't change the fact that Harry will need somewhere to live, shelter or even clothes!"

"Clothes I can transfigure from fur. Shelter, I can make a cottage from a stone. I could even line it with rat fur or something. Food was the only problem." Harry's face lit up with a smile. "And a Weasley jumper would be nice…"

"You've got it."

"Haaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!"

"I hear you Gin. I'll be alright, I promise. Now when can we get these bags up and ready?"

"If you could transfigure us two"

"-we'd be able to in a heartbeat."

"Our transfiguration was always a little spare with"

"-plain things"

"Err, does anyone have any string?" Fred knelt down and pulled out a piece of wool from the Weasley Jumper he was wearing. Handing it to Harry, Harry looked it over and smiled.

"_ligamen ut pera._" The string turned to a nice 7 by 5 drawstring bag. "_effingo" _and then there were two.

"Are these going to be permanent transfigurations?"

"A year at least, why?" The Twins shared a look before handing Harry the bags back.

"Make it permanent"

"And make us another four."

"Huh?"

"Two for the Weasley's" Fred and George began counting on their fingers, making Harry feel like an idiot.

"-two for Harry"

"-and two for Hermione"

"And just how do you propose you get these two bags to Hermione?" Ron asked his smug brothers. Their faces fell.

"Just make them and we'll work out how to get the damn thing to Hermione"

"You lot haven't the slightest clue do you?"

"No,"

"Not really."

"At very least it could come in handy when we get to Hogwarts. I'll do the transfiguration." Harry took the bags from the twins before doing the work. _" effingo thrice, planto, proprius" _The first spell tripled the two bags while the last ones gave the bags a sort of edge. It was hard to explain- as if somehow before it had been a bit fuzzy around the edges and now it was real. Permanent spells had that effect a lot of the time and drained a normal wizard to the point of unconsciousness.

"Good work chap."

"Now it's our turn. They'll be marked in our old code" Harry and Ron nodded while Ginny tried to follow their co-ordination and ended up giggling instead. Harry and Ron gave her a weird look which quietened her down as she looked away.

"_Communico cum a starving frater," _They spoke in unison, holding two of the bags out in front of them. They glowed for a second. _"Is est Yolsuow, Is est Rottep. Yolsuow ad Rottep, Rottep ad Yolsuow_" The glow died immediately. The words Yolsuow ad Rottep and Rottep ad Yolsuow were neatly stitched onto them. They handed the first to Ron and the second to Harry before taking another pair and repeating.

"_Communico cum a starving frater, Is est Rognurg, Is est Rottep. Rognurg ad Rottep, Rottep ad Rognurg." _Again the same neat stitching was on each bag, one they gave to Harry, the other they put aside.

"_Communico cum a starving frater, Is est Yolsuow, Is est Rognurg. Yolsuow ad Rognurg, Rognurg ad Yolsuow" _As the spell was finished the boys dropped the bags.

"Well that was entertaining." Ron's tiny voice said sarcastically.

"Boys! Frederick and George Weasley! Where are you?" Molly's voice screamed from the kitchen.

"Do you think she's found the carrots?"

"Or the flour spoons?"

"Harry mate- I think it might be best you leave now. Mum's about to go apocalyptic."

"Sure Ron. I'll find the first empty Muggle forest or woodlands I can find. Send food and if the rat turns up, send a note."

"Will do." Ron told him. He jumped out the window of the nursery, which was two stories off the ground, and disappeared. This was the last time they saw Harry Potter for some time.

* * *

And that was why Molly Weasley found herself unable to fill her little boys up. The twins cried and begged for more and more food and when she gave them it they never got fatter. In the end she found herself cooking enough for an extra person between them. The twins diligently scammed as much food out of their mother as they could; shoving it all into their bag once they'd reached the safety of their room. They assumed this was enough unless Harry had ambitions of being a sumo wrestler. 

Ginny continued her lessons to Charley as they had gone for the year up until then. He was up to second year magic wandless, which was no small feat for an 8 year old. He'd be encumbered by having to learn the motions when he was at school, but basically- that was it. He'd have a life of always being ahead in magic. A gift of unknown quantity.

It was about June when Charley began to ask Ginny how she'd made her mind so strong, how she looked so adult in her mind, and even how she knew so much magic. Deciding to take the easiest question and leave the others aside, Ginny began to teach Charley Occlumency.

/Now Charley, we're going to have to go to your mind, ok./

/How/

/Well, to start off I'll take you there from here- but after that you'll have to invent your own way to do it. It's generally not hard for people with your ability because of your natural ability to perceive the mind as a physical or at least visual place. For normal people that's the hardest step which makes Occlumency so hard. Here, take a hold of my hand/ Ginny focused on the link Charley was giving her by being in her mind and followed it back to Charley's own mind.

Charley watched the landscape change suddenly with no small amount of doubt. What was this place? He had expected to see something a little bit more… well- friendly. What he did see was a twisted marsh. They were standing in water than came up to Charley's knees, the trees were wilted, the sky was empty and birds hovered in the dead and dying trees. The smell was dark and rotting. The air was cold and unforgiving. Snakes hissed and frogs croaked, giving the eerie feeling that they were being watched. How could this be his mind? Was he… evil?

/Where are we/

/This is your mind as you choose to see it/ Ginny looked around her with a sad smile. This was not the mind of a child. This was the mind of someone with such a low self-esteem they could only see darkness. It almost made Ginny want to cry. Her brother didn't deserve this.

/This is… this is my doing/

/No. You don't understand. Maybe I choose is the wrong word to use./ She knelt down in the muck to look him in the eye. /This is how you see yourself. It's not truth, it has no meaning. In your case I'd say it's simply a matter of self image. And we're here to make this better now/

/But why isn't my mind empty or shapeless like Percy's/

/It's simple really. Percy hasn't given any thought to his mind. As he gets older and he starts concentrating on remembering things his mind will take shape. You, however, give this place shape every time you concentrate on using Legilimency/

/So Legilimency did this- to my mind/

/No, it just allowed your mind to take the image of your self image./

/What do I do? How do I… change this? Do I have to give up Legilimency/

/No, you don't have to and I don't want you to. It's a useful gift. We just have to change this/ Ginny gave it some thought before standing up. The underlying problem was that he believed, however subconsciously, that this was what he was worth, what he was- something dirty. As she'd said, his Legilimency had been concentrating his mind into a clear picture, and this was the shape it had taken.

Minds usually took images which belied how well organised, how strong the mind was, something familiar or even just strong interests, it was unusual for a mind to take up the self image. Maybe Legilimency was playing a larger part than she was giving it credit for? She gave it some more thought. He concentrated when he used Legilimency, which would give his mind shape- but it also made him feel guilty, like he was doing something bad? The two connected to give his mind this shape. This would take a while to fix properly, Ginny realised with a groan- starting with teaching Charley that his gifts were helpful and he was right to use it. Ginny sighed. That would have to come later- right now she should change this mindscape.

/I want you to imagine you're somewhere else. I'm going to tell you where we are and I want you to change it to what I describe. Picture this as clearly as you can and then change the details until we're standing somewhere else. You can add things if you want, but I'll give you the outline. Can you do that/

/I'll try/

/Close your eyes./ He did as he was told. Ginny looked around the marsh for a starting point. Eventually her eyes floated up. There wasn't a sky worth mentioning, something close to dusk with no sun and no moon but enough light to see by, and those birds looked scary- Carrier Birds or maybe even Harpies? Where did he learn about them? Possibly in Mum's lessons, she noted dryly. /The sky. Charley, the sky is bright and warm. Can you feel the sun touching us? It sits directly above. It's noon. Clouds drift across lazily like they do above the fields around the Burrow in the summer. The sun is smiling down, warm and fresh. It makes this cold disappear. It makes everything around it turn golden. Can you see it/ The changes were more gradual than she'd hoped, but the end result was none the less refreshing.

/The wind. There's a gush of wind and with it come dragons that fight the birds out of the sky with fire and roars of triumph./ Ginny noticed that the audible confirmation helped to move things along quicker /They're diving in and out of the clouds. Eating their fill of the ugly birds. When the birds are gone the trees begin to grow again. They turn healthy and green in seconds, sending out blooms which turn to apples like the orchard a few fields away from home. Where Dad showed you how to ride your first broomstick and you raced Bill. The trees are soaking up all the ugly water, drinking it greedily and turning it to growth. They spread and make afternoon shade from the sun/ Ginny was glad to feel her legs out of that foul smelling water. The changes were striking. Charley was good at this. Before she could say anything details began popping up she hadn't given him.

The ground soon became covered in long grass that came above Charley's head while birds and various other animals began to populate the beautiful habitat of Charley's mind. Butterflies started coming out in waves before the Dragons started coming down to the ground. The majestic creatures were in such detail! Though they were pretty generic in their looks with no distinct markings- she wondered just how Charley knew so much- and not for the first time. She gave the Dragons a second look. All Common Welsh Green's and a few Hebridean Black's here and there. Where had he seen pictures so detailed of Dragons?

/Charley- you can open your eyes if you can see/ there was a squeak from where Ginny assumed he was. /If you don't like something just imagine it's not there./ The hint was a bit obvious but he soon corrected himself and the grass suddenly shrunk to half it's height

/Wow/

/You did this. We're going to have to have a talk about this later when we're in my mind. Now, tell me- where do you think your memories would be? You should know instinctively because it's your mind and you're a Legilimens/

/The trees. But wait. If this is how you defended yourself- then why is mine a field and yours a fortress/

/Because my fortress actually defends something. You still need to find and sort those memories of yours before we can work our way up to a fortress. Occlumency takes years for most wizards to master. But luckily for you the younger you start Occlumency the easier it is to master. Now we have to sort all of your memories. I think it would be best if we found them first, don't you/

/Well yes. But why can't I just imagine they were all with me/

/Because it's those memories which are allowing you to create things here. It'd be impossible to imagine a bird if you'd never seen a bird- so you can't imagine them all together if you've never seen all of your memories together, now could you? And in the end it really wouldn't matter- you still have to sort them into groups manually. We haven't even got to how we're going to defend your mind/

/But what about a spell which collects them/ Ginny was about to get angry at Charley for asking stupid questions when she realised that maybe this wasn't such a bad thing. Curious people discovered or invented things.

/Never been made with the specific intention of collecting all of your memories. And we might accidentally damage them./

/How about making one then/

/That could take years, it's easier to just collect them/

/What if I imagine a spell which I trigger by a simple gesture, which summons my memories undamaged/ That stopped Ginny in her tracks. Well, well, well, her brother had just come up with a technique all by his little self.

/It's possible. If you want to try? Remember just because you've summoned the memories doesn't mean you won't have to sort through them all./

Charley nodded and closed his eyes before clicking his fingers. A thousand arrows shot out of from his hand and caught the birds and wildlife. The arrows didn't kill the animals, merely held them and drew them in. Ginny looked at the hundreds and hundreds of animals in dismay. How did Charley have so many memories? Then it clicked.

/Charley, when you read an animals mind, do you look through their memories? Take them for your own/

/Well, I certainly look through memories. You'd be amazed by how much you can learn from animals. Their minds are so open. They just give you information. But I didn't purposefully remember it./ He picked up a fat looking snake and laid him down on a bench which had appeared for that purpose. Ginny was almost staring as he continued to collect animals. /Did you know that the snakes around the Burrow eat the Gnomes? That's why the little buggers fight so much. Mum has pest spells to keep the snakes out of her gardens so it's like safe haven./

/Language. I suppose that would make sense. Ok- you go on collecting your information, but try to be wary of how many you read completely./ Her brother had real skills for being a spy, she realised. Natural Legilimency, tutored in magic since he was 7, tutored in Occlumency. Those were the skills of a born spy. Not to mention he had a million willing confidential contacts. She'd never heard of people who especially read animal minds.

/I'll try/

/Ok. So- how many of these are your memories alone./

/All of them have a bit of my memories. The birds more than the others and the Gnomes almost not at all./ Ginny decided that she wanted to watch these with Charley, possibly gain her own insights. Remembering a Pensieve she recreated its image in her hands.

/Ok. This is a Pensieve. It's not really but it'll serve the same purpose here. It allows us to re-live our memories, seeing details we may not have noticed the first time and such. Because it's imagined, some of its properties might be different, but generally this is what it'll do in real life. Now, let me show you a memory to get this started/ Ginny put her finger to her head and remembered seeing her mother for the first time. It was a short and sweet sort of memory. Taking her finger away she deposited it in the basin /now to experience the memory all you have to do is touch the liquid. To browse it tap the side and say _Ostendo mihi memoria _like so/ the image of Mum showed bright and clear above the Pensieve.

/But how do I get memories from the animals into there/

/As if you were doing it to yourself/ she pulled a silver strand from a Gnome's mind and deposited it in the Pensieve. It gave off a green glow with silver threads. Ginny found this interesting, but was more worried about her memory and so took it out quickly.

/Why's it such a weird colour/

/I don't know. It may be because it's not human./

/Oh, ok./

/Now you do it to that bird/

/it's a sparrow/

/Doesn't matter and I don't care/ Ginny watched Charley carefully as he extracted the memories in the bird and dropped them into the Pensieve.

Giving him a nod to keep doing this Ginny started taking memories herself. As the memories were captured the animals were released back into Charley's mind where they acted as normally as they had before. It took a while, but Ginny and Charley eventually had collected all the memories from Charley's mind, the stone basin was almost tipping with memories, but that didn't matter. A memory couldn't die as long as it was in a Pensieve or a mind.

/Time we went for a swim, don't you think/

/First we need to get the first level classifications, Charley/

/Classification/ Charley got tongue tied on the word. It wasn't a Wizard one.

/Groups. Like arithmetic- we're going to group things/

/I hate arithmetic/

/ This isn't real maths- Charley. I think the first step should be to separate the animal memories from the human ones/ Ginny recreated another Pensieve, placing it on the bench next to the first. /_Vestigium ut Bestia Pensieve_/ The words 'Animal Pensieve' were marked on the bench in curled cursive.

/I just want to get in there- come on/ He plunged his hand into the memories. Ginny sighed and followed- thinking, though not for the first time, _'Children'

* * *

_

Ginny continued to teach her older brother how to sort and defend his mind. She explained, after their first major sorting, that after that it was a daily exercise to clear your mind and work through the days memories, sorting them into the pre-arranged alignments. Charley hadn't been too pleased and had watched Ginny sort her memories with a grudging realisation that Ginny had not simply _had_ her fortress and Occlumency but she had actually had to work on it. This simply confused him- where had she learnt to work so hard and then where had she had the time to make it?

Ginny noticed her brother's thoughts, for he was broadcasting them rather loudly while he was in her mind, and saw that this was going to have to come out eventually. She'd just have to wait until he'd cornered her and wouldn't take her diversions anymore. She was expecting it any day now.

In the September of 1982 Bill became the first of his generation of Weasley boys to leave the nest to go to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His Mum cried like he was dying and sent him off with a teary wave on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. This served to embarrass him immensely, but he wasn't the only one- so he rationalised that it was alright.

Because the day happened to fall on a Wednesday, the Weasley father had to be at work for the morning. He did apparate in as the Train began to leave, to wave goodbye to his son. Bill saw it and smiled. He'd hoped to see his Dad before he left to this strange new school called Hogwarts. With a shouted:

"Write as soon as possible!" From the Weasley Matriarch in tears Bill sped off to his first year of learning in Hogwarts. He immediately made a group of friends on the train. He didn't, however, realise that they were all destined to be Hufflepuff.

* * *

/Well, well, well. Aren't you the challenge? You're a Weasley, with the Courage and Bravery to match but you're much more suited to Hufflepuff than Gryffindor/ 

/I can't be a Hufflepuff! I can't write home to Dad and tell him I'm a _Hufflepuff_/

/Of course you can. A quarter of the students I sort do just that/

/But I'm a Weasley! Our entire family has been Gryffindor/

/While your name may not bear it- you're still a Prewett and they've had plenty of proud Hufflepuff's/

/But I don't want to be one. Everyone knows that Hufflepuff's a little dim/

/Not at all true, you know. Some of the Greatest Witches and Wizards of their generations have been from Hufflepuff's. Loyalty, and a strong work ethic can get you anywhere. You also make true friends among Hufflepuff broods. Yes, a friend made in Hufflepuff is a friend made in Heaven. Connections among the Alumni…/

/Just give me a chance. If I don't live up to being a Gryffindor then you can put me in Hufflepuff- but I don't want to be one/

/If that's what you want…/

"Probationary GRYFFINDOR!" The hall was stunned, a probationary student? Hadn't those disappeared when the founders had? Bill was just happy to be in Gryffindor. But the Headmaster was confused- didn't all Weasley's stay in Gryffindor unconditionally? He'd seen it for himself when his father had pointed it out as an example. Dumbledore's eye followed the little Weasley to his seat. Something was changing in the Burrow, but what was the catalyst?

* * *

The year was 1983 and the date was 15th of July- it would be remembered as the day two little boy in a field outside his home uncovered the greatest treachery of modern Wizarding times. 

Bill was in his own world. The Sorting hat had been right, he hadn't fit in among the Gryffindor's. They had tried to help him get along; they'd gone out of their way. He'd even made friends with the boys of his dormitory, but he wasn't a Gryffindor, not at heart. The talked about breaking the rules and they left their assignments to the last second, most of them still passing. He; however had to work constantly to get his assignments done. They were brash and so daring, he just wasn't.

Charley was purposefully giving his brother space to think. He tried not to think about Bill's probation and concentrated on practicing his Legilimency. Ginny and he had made several leaps into the practice and theory of the Mind Arts. Ginny had even taught him to ghost. Ghosting was the practice and Art of subtly using a form of Legilimency to read only the surface thoughts. When done properly it couldn't be detected by even the strongest Occlumens, it did, however, have several forms of defences to stop it, but these were exhausting for long periods of time and to properly feel a Ghosting you had to have them up constantly. He'd found he had a talent for ghosting people's minds and practiced on Percy and Bill often. Ginny frowned on him practicing on the Twins or Ron because of the age differences. She mentioned it wasn't a European technique- but Charley had been confused- when had she been outside of Europe- or Brittain?

Right at that moment Charley was practicing his Legilimency on the local Gnomes when he prodded something which was not a Gnome or any other small animal he'd ever come across. It wasn't a particularly well guarded mind, not like Ginny's, but it was safer than Percy's. It had an older taste than Percy's, and was much closer to Ginny's apparent mental maturity. But if someone of Ginny's mental maturity was around, wouldn't he see them?

There was something else about it; it felt almost as if it wasn't entirely human?

"Something's wrong" Charley whispered to Bill.

"What?"

"I can feel something that's more human than animal below us. Go get Mum or Dad."

"Dad's still at work."

"Then get Mum, hurry!"

"Deciding that whatever this was needed to be examined, Charley sat down, crossed his legs and closed his eyes, searching for that specific mind. He sensed Bill coming back with his mother, but only as minds. As he focused on the mind's unique flavour he found it. It was in the field and moving slightly to their right- towards the Burrow.

Charley sank into the mind like he would any other. Looking around he saw that this mind was barely a shack, with dark memories floating around like a dirty fog. Someone had taught this person, a male Charley sensed, how to protect it but it wasn't very good because of his lower than normal power levels. Charley moved away as dirty smog came closer to him. He didn't want to see whatever secrets this thing held. Ginny had taught him such things in the time he'd been learning from her. He was grateful for it now.

He approached the small shack and was alarmed to smell rat. The smell was overwhelming, but Charley moved faster for it. As he opened the door he found a small overweight man sitting with his eyes closed on a chair while a large rat scuttled back and forth, glazed eyes. It looked almost as if the poor animal was being controlled against its will. Such horror stories were spread amongst the children of magical races- Death Eaters did that to their victims. Charley shuddered. The not quite sleeping man smelt horrible.

Taking the next step into this foreign mind he touched the Rat and saw grass, endless grass. He was running, running as far away from the trees and owls, snakes and dogs- big black dogs that snarled and bared teeth. Charley didn't let this mindset grab him and remained separate as Ginny had told him.

"If you ever decide to take control of a human or animal, never let that mind hold you. Remain separate." And he did just that. As a separate entity in what Charley knew to be the consciousness of the mind he told the rat to head toward his body. It was simple, but it took time for the small creature to go even the small distance between his previous position and the Burrow. When Charley saw himself through rat eyes he moved out of the consciousness. The rat was being erratic, anxious.

Deciding that he wanted to see more, he disabled the rat down with a muttered _"Petrificus Totalus" _the rat was down and out. This served to awake the small man on his chair. His eyes were open and unseeing. Making a guess he touched the man and saw through his eyes. He felt sick, something was wrong but he couldn't tell what it was as it was trying to smother him. Paying more attention to what he was supposed to see, he saw the strange man had a wand in hand and was about to curse Bill and Mum. Charley suddenly bubbled with rage. NO! How dare he point a wand at his mother?

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _The view suddenly dropped to the ground, staring ahead with no movement but eyes still wide. The fact that he'd done it on the inside of his mind caused the small man to freeze mentally rather than physically. Charley didn't know it- but this was a fairly large magical feat. Charley escaped the mind as quickly as he could; giving him a large headache and making the man lose consciousness, though his eyes stayed open. He lifted his legs so he could put his head between his knees.

Bill stared at the man in front of him.

"Is he dead?" He looked up at her and she shook her head.

"Peter Pettigrew, the Hero. He should be. But no, he's quite alive" She bent down to check for a pulse and found one going faster than the Hogwarts Express. "And he has a pulse. I need to make a fire call. Bill, you watch him and Charley." She took out her wand and whispered _"Incarcerous"_ before hurriedly heading inside to talk to Dumbledore.

Charley sat, his head in his lap, as his headache began to lessen. This man was evil- his selfish bitterness was overwhelming. He had felt it as their consciousnesses had been together for that one moment, as the older and more experienced consciousness had battered him, trying to control but still failing. He knew what he had to do. He stood up and went inside to try and find Ginny.

Bill watched his younger brother run inside, but decided to stay and watch this man who had threatened his Mum- Peter Pettigrew. A moment later and the tall and grey man Bill knew to call Headmaster from school appeared with a pop Bill knew meant apparition. He didn't have time to talk before there were several more pops as people Bill quickly remembered as Aurors from Dad's work came quickly.

"He's alive"

"Dumbledore must have caught him"

"He's a hero"

"He's a coward." Bill just stared as these people all ignored him and whispered about the strange man Mum had called Peter Pettigrew- the man who changed from human to rat in a heartbeat. Professor McGonagall had called the ability Animagi. Mum soon came back with soot all over her face. She must have been fire calling a lot of people, Bill thought

"Dumbledore- is it him?" She asked the old man.

"I'm afraid it is. He's missing his index finger. From the look of it it's healed roughly. Thankyou Molly for finding him. It was a smart idea to subdue him."

"I didn't. I mean, Charley was in his head and stopped him before he could curse us. Great Merlin Albus! He tried to curse us, I could feel it. He tried to curse Bill and I. And… and if he's alive, is Sirius innocent?" Mentioning that Charley had been inside his head had brought a twinkle to the older man's eye. So Charley was a Legilimens? Another strange occurrence from the Burrow- Weasley's were never particularly magically talented and Ligilimency was a magically powerful gift- if a bit more common than most. What was happening to the light-sided family, he thought?

"He may be."

* * *

It was all over the papers for weeks. The Daily Prophet proclaimed in a 'special edition exclusive' that it was mere children who had captured the mass murdering Peter Pettigrew. The next day it was all anyone would talk about that Pettigrew was an Animagus. The day after that it was all about Peter's life story. The day after that it was about the tragedy of Peter, who fell in love with a Dark Witch, followed his heart and got burnt. The day after that it was all about how Pettigrew had been under Imperius. The day after that **'the trials of Peter Pettigrew'** gave _exclusive_ _details _of Peter Pettigrew's personal torture under Cruciatus. The day after that it was all about guessing how many people he'd killed. After the Prophet had finally run out of fake and true stories about Peter they spent a month in the gossip pages discussing it. 

And it wasn't for a whole month before they realised that they had missed something rather important. If Peter Pettigrew was a death Eater- what did that make Sirius Black? It was then that the Ministry decided it was best to reveal the truth before the papers started working against them. Fudge wasn't a complete moron, yet.

In a press conference it was revealed that Sirius Black had received an official and unconditional pardon for all of his 'alleged crimes'. The Daily Prophet ate this up like honey, though not to the Minister's favour. In a series of editions the headlines read like this.'**Why did the Ministry hide Sirius Black'sInnocence from his devoted public?**','**Ministry hides dark secrets from the public!**', '**The Ministry's greatest fear- Sirius Black Innocent!**', '**Fudge personally refuses Sirius Black a trial!**', **'"I knew my Siri couldn't have done it- I told Fudge it was Peter!"Former Girlfriend speaks out against Fudge**', '**Exclusive proof! Fudge a former Death Eater!**','**Death Eaters invade the Ministry! "It was all You-Know-Who's great plan to put a Death Eaterin as Minister of magic after his defeat"**','**Public outcries for a ministry investigation- Ministry refuses!**'

The public's 'cry's for investigation' was gracefully given by none other than Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Dumbledore and she had quite a few conversations about destabilising the Government in such a harsh way- but she refused to budge and gave the public what they wanted. Her brother had died from the Death Eaters- she had no pity for the Government which had fostered them.

Mr. Malfoy, Mr Crabbe, Mr. Goyle and Mr. McNair were the most notable arrested for willingly and knowinglyassociating with and being Death Eaters. Amelia had used legal but underhanded tactics to administer Veritaserum to all ministry employees and carefully question each of them concerning The First War. Ministry employees were being arrested left and right for their times serving, or sending information to,the Last Dark Lord. It was rather a shock to Fudge when he saw this, his most loyal employees were Death Eaters? His resulting retaliation was weak, but would have kept him in office, had it been given quick enough.

Unfortunately he wasn't the fastest gun and was quickly voted out of office in a unanimous vote from both the Wizengamot and the Ministry employees left with jobs. After the inquiry the Ministry was left a shambles. There just were so few people left. So few people hadn't served Voldemort, or given information to his servants that they simply had to start almost from scratch.

1982/1'sseventh year students were being hired into higher positions than ever before. The senior Ministry employees began to work overtime to train them into their perspective positions. As this began happening the Wizengamot instituted ground breaking new laws which allowed for the screening of Ministry employees trusted with important positions via Veritaserum. Amazingly the vote was almost unanimous. In the week that followed Amelia Bones was voted in as Minister of Magic. The date was September 19th 1983.

This marked a time ofnever before experiencedprosperity for the Weasley's. Arthur was quickly promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement because of his experience for years in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. They were all rather shocked at that development, but aside from certain Aurors he was the most experienced in the Department. Because he was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement he was given a place on the Wizengamot, which in itself was a 15 percent pay rise.

Mrs. Weasley was very smart about this. She had spent years with Arthur in what was generally considered poverty and she knew that they had to save, save, save, especially if they wanted to send all 7 siblings to Hogwarts in new clothes, books and wands. So while Mr Weasley spent sparingly on newrobes for workMrs. Weasley saved everything they didn't need. The Weasley family vault was fairly old, but it was getting more use.

The four youngest Weasley children heard and saw these changes in varying amounts of shock. What had they done? They'd all agreed that Peter had to be changed. Unfortunately, his place in the timeline was simply too important not to wreak havoc when he wasn't there anymore. Where was the advantage in this? Did they even have a clue what was going to happen next? Hermione was going to skin them all alive. But first a certain black haired boy-who-lived in a stone tower somewhere in an unknown forest had to receive his coded letter.

* * *

Bill was beginning his second year, and he was dreading arriving at the Great Hall. Would the hat simply call his name and demand he be put in Hufflepuff or would he be given the choice. Bill was willing to just go to Hufflepuff quietly, but he didn't know what to do about telling his parents. Surprisingly, Charley had been the one he'd discussed the issue with. Their conversation had been short, but meaningful in which Charley had told his older brother in no uncertain terms, if with different words, that he would still be a Weasley if he was a Hufflepuff and all he had to do to keep that was to remember loyalty to his family. Bill was grateful to his younger brother for even that small comfort. 

As he rode up to the castel in the carriages and eventually walked into the Great Hall his dread increased dramatically. Making Bill want to just disappear- why couldn't he be like the Twins and become invisible? What use was being a finder if you couldn't use it on yourself? _I want to find a way out_.

And that's when it happened. He saw a door that he'd never seen in Hogwarts before. It was directly next to the great big doors which led inside the Great Hall. Bill was confused, where could that possibly lead? On the other side of the wall was empty air. Bill didn't give it much thought, Hogwarts could be like that. The moment of distraction took his mind off of the problem at hand and made him feel better.

"Mr. Weasley, might I have a word with you?" It was Professor McGonagall. He'd always respected her for being the perfect Gryffindor if he couldn't be. She was something of an idle for him- what he aspired to be.

"Yes Professor McGonagall" She led him over to the side of the Hall near the Head Table. Bill looked back to the Great Hall doors and saw nothing. Hogwarts must have moved it.

"We have consulted the Sorting Hat about yoursituationand it has told us that the tradition for probationary students is to resort them every year until they are no longer probationary."

"Does that mean it's possible to be resorted every year while you're at Hogwarts?" Bill had a gut feeling that this would be the most horrible feeling in the world.

"It has apparently happened before. I am informed the student was very well rounded as a student."

"Well, ok- but, um." Bill swallowed "That's not going to happen to me, is it?"

"No, the Headmaster had asked the same question and received the same answer. The probation was only between two houses, so you'll have only two sortings. It would not tell us which- but it was Gryffindor and Slytherin, am I correct? They're the most obvious choices. You didn't want to be in the house of serpents?" Minerva's face was stern. It seemed apparent that she didn't approve of Slytherin's in the Gryffindor common rooms.

"No, I didn't want to be a Hufflepuff. Everyone says they're hopeless Hufflepuffs and my family are all Gryffindors." Bill felt his stomach plunge. Was Professor McGonagall really that bias underneath her calm, collected and understanding exterior? He'd idealised her and just at that second he realised she was nothing more than a bigot. And in that moment, Bill's more trusting side fell away.

"That is quiet alright. Well, it has been a pleasure to have you as a student, Mr. Weasley. As the other first year students come in, please make your way to the Sorting Hat, I need to collect the students. You may sit with your Gryffindor friends until that time." Bill nodded and started to walk back to Gryffindor with alot on his mind.

* * *

/Hello Mr. Weasley. Are you quiet ready now/ 

/Yes/

/Don't sound so upset, Mr. Weasley- you'll find you fit in rather nicely with the others. And you now have friends in two houses/

/You're right, aren't you? I should be proud of myself/

/Take that with you into Hufflepuff, will you. They let themselves be trampled on just a little bit too much this Generation. Meek does not mean doormat/

"HUFFLEPUFF" Bill was pleased to be himself nowand took his seat with friends he'd made on the train before first year. And he finally felt he fit.

* * *

**End Chapter.**

Next Chapter: **A Minor Alteration**


	6. A Minor Alteration

**Disclaimer – **The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

Lost Time

Chapter 6

**A Minor Alteration**

* * *

Time flew by quickly at the Burrow. Mr Weasley continued to work hard as the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement and continued to receive his generous earnings. Mrs Weasley continued to stay at home and take care of the children, albeit better dressed and with more funds to buy their 'special' books. 

Ron, Ginny and the Twins continued to go on as they had before. Ron took to Quidditch like a natural at the age of 4, much to his father's glee. The Twins began their inventions and Ginny continued to tutor her older brother in the Mind Arts. Charley became better and better with his Occlumency and this showed in his Ligilimency as he was quickly able to enter and leave an animals mind while collecting all of the information within in moments. His inner organisation was helping his concentration. Percy became the Twins major amusement as he shifted from a complete bookworm into a more useful trickster- being able to have things move without touching them was a useful gift.

It was in September of 1985, the September that Charley left for Hogwarts, that a letter came to the youngest Weasley children, which astonished them. The Falcon arrived at midnight while they were asleep. When they opened the window it swooped and dropped it off on Fred's bed. It then proceeded to sit on the window sill expectantly. The Twins, not knowing anyone who would send them an Owl, were cautious of a trick. Opening it they saw their code and nearly had a heart attack.

Dear Twins,

I am well and have settled in with my family nicely. So many things I'd forgotten about my parents have become obvious now. Many things I did not know before are suddenly clear. I want to meet you before school, because Owl is so terribly impersonal. I don't know how though.

I'm writing because I have found out I have a maternal Great Grandfather who is a Wizard. He's so pureblood it's ridiculous and he makes me sick. He's as stubborn as a mule and five times as arrogant. Can you believe it! He's calling me Lady Volonté, that's my title. I have a Wizarding title, it's so very strange.

I have so much to say and something I need to give you which cannot fall into the wrong hands. The transfer spells and portkey spells could damage it so I don't know how else to ship it to you. If you can think of a method which would not damage a magical potion, please tell me.

Please write back to me; and in code- I don't know if this will be somehow intercepted. Don't send Errol, the trip is a fair distance from the Burrow. I'm currently in a Boarding school in London which has allowed me one pet. My Great Grandfather is paying for 'the best Muggle institute available'.

Have you heard from Harry? Did Padfoot get out? Is Wormtail in prison? I can't contact the mainstream magical community in Britain. My Great Grandfather is French and won't listen to 'English Propaganda' and so won't let me read the Daily Prophet.

I will still be attending Hogwarts, and I hope to see you all at least then. Please reply.

Tell Ron I'm ready.

Hermione

The twins grinned suddenly. Ron was going to have a fit when he heard about this. They both knew that for a fact. They'd quickly taken it to the Ron's room he'd moved into last year. It was his old room of course, at the very top of the house and rather small, but Mum had promised to get someone to come in and make it a bit bigger for him.

Ron groaned when he was awoken by his peppy brothers.

"What is it now?"

"Hermione" He was instantly awake much to the Twins roaring laughter.

"This had better not be some twisted joke"

"No joke, brother" They handed him the letter and he swiftly translated it in his head.

"Oh my God! She's pureblooded!"

"Well, we were paying closer attention to"

"-the fact that she's loaded, but you know."

"She's loaded…"

"Don't think twice about it, Ronnikens."

"We're not so bad off ourselves,"

"-you know. Dad is the Head of the Depart-"

"ment of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Yeah… Where have I heard that name before- Volonté?" Ron's face screwed up as he tried to recall.

"One of the last of the old magical family's to fall for lack of an heir in the first reality. French"

"We remember because the last Lord Volonté was a potion genius."

"Among other things" Ron gave them a questioning look so they elaborated.

"He revolutionised the pureblood status after publishing a paper about a potion or other he'd found"

"It was about the purification of Muggle-blood from Muggle-borns."

"It led to all sorts of racial acts to reproduce the effect. Hundreds of tortured Muggle-born"

"So he's a racist! We have to get her away from him!"

"Yeah, but she said she's in a boarding school in London now. She's in no immediate danger. And anyway- we were going to send her the bags. We'll be able to keep in contact fairly easily."

"Ok"

"Don't sweat it little brother."

"He said he'd found a potion, he didn't say he hated Muggleborn children."

The bags were sent, with a note, to Hermione that night with her falcon.

* * *

After the shock of hearing from Hermione, and Ron's subsequent learning to write and read quickly, another shock rocked the Weasley clan. It came with Charley's first Owl home, nearly two weeks after he'd left. Bill had also held off writing to the family and so it was two letters that made their way home quickly. 

Molly had, in her own way, not been surprised with Charley not writing for so long. She merely had assumed he'd made friends and had been caught up for his first week. This excuse was wearing thin in the second week and once it had actually come she realised why her second son had not sent word the day after his Sorting.

"SLYTHERIN!" Mr Weasley all but screamed, dropping the letter in horror. Mrs. Weasley dropped in a dead faint, landing with a thump. Percy was daunted to hear their reactions, clearly shocked himself. The Twins showed their displeasure with the idea of having an older brother from Slytherin by remaining silent- quite a sight to behold, that. Ron didn't react and merely stayed shock quiet. Ginny wasn't shocked, surprised or even disappointed.

She'd spent the most time with him and knew what he was like; his mind was merely a bit more cunning and clever than the rest of the family. No, she'd been expecting something of this calibre to happen. She'd also held it in mind that he could have become a Ravenclaw too. Seeing her father dead white sitting on a chair she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and said, in the sweetest, honey soaked voice she could muster:

"Get over it, Dad" Before she skipped out of the room. Dinner was cold that night as Mum didn't wake up in time to make any.

* * *

When the two boys had returned Bill had stood up for his brother immediately. Nothing more was said. Charley continued to learn from Ginny when he could, though with more difficulty now that he had a wand. Bill and Charley left for and came back from school again, Charley gaining a place on the Slytherin Quidditch team in between. Bill became a prefect and then it was Percy's turn to go to Hogwarts where he was sorted into Ravenclaw with a little less drama than Charley. Molly was flabbergasted that she'd somehow managed to have three boys in three different houses with none of them in her house. 

In fact the older boys themselves were thinking much the same as they waved from across the hall to their smiling, happy, brother who was already talking to a group of boys and a girl. What made Percy a Ravenclaw? They were all raised in the same home- the same mother, the same father. Bill had been sure that Percy would be a Gryffindor, Charley not so much.

Charley had watched, although with more subtlety, for the last year or so- when they'd seen each other- as his brother made the transition to almost school age. It had been interesting. Charley had seen Percy's mind was taking on more focus much quicker- his interest in pranking becoming less and his attention to his mother's lessons was quick as he tried to learn as much as he could to be ready for school.

To be honest Charley had wanted a little brother in his house, to remind him of home while his house wasn't being so nice. He'd thought it might be possible for a little while. Now he admitted that it hadn't been. Percy simply wasn't cunning enough. He had the ambition- as much as a first year could- to be a Slytherin, but not the sly nature. Charley wasn't so sure he even saw the sly nature in himself.

His first reaction to becoming a Slytherin was one of deep horror. Slytherin was evil and everyone knew it- wasn't it. But slowly he'd come to the realisation that they weren't- they were simply more ambitious with a nature to get them where they wanted to be.

Then the rest of the house had identified him as a Blood Traitor and he hadn't been so sure. It had been horrifying to be ignored, belittled and humiliated completely in your house. To have several of the older students make life harder for you. So much for your house being your family, Charley had thought when they'd hexed his school books to light on fire. Slytherin was no one's family.

The subtletorture had continued for most of first year but had ended as Charley had successfully won a duel with a 4th year student. Grudging respect was won and so Charley moved on. The House left him alone, albeit as an outcast, and Charley learnt like any other student in the castle.

He wondered idly if Bill had had any problems or if Percy would? No- he doubted it. Hufflepuff just didn't seem the house to do that to anyone and Ravenclaw was more interested in intellect than blood, weren't they? Charley stopped wondering- there were always one or two people who would. He just hoped that Percy's natural abilities would serve him as Charley's had him.

Charley had learnt early on to ghost across every mind in the room for intentions. It had saved him from a nasty hex several times and alerted him when someone was pointing a wand at him from under the table. He trusted no one and no one trusted him- that was the way things were for a Slytherin.

Not to say that the other houses saw them like that. No one attacked Charley when someone from another house could be watching. Slytherin house showed united fronts to the other houses and the punishments for disobeying such unspoken rules were nothing short of public humiliations. Being hung from the ceiling of the Great Hall by your ankles was just one of them.

Unknown to Charley these were the conditions which the best Slytherin's of all had had to endure. Albeit he had more advantages than some of them had had- Charley was living the life of a Slytherin Mudblood/Halfblood/Blood Traitor. Such names included the dazzling Lily Potter and the audacious Tom Riddle- but Charley knew none of this.

* * *

Charley was running as hard as he could through the castle. He wasn't being chased by anything particularly magical, as one would expect from a magical institution like Hogwarts. No- he was being chased by a gruff old man and his pet cat. The care taker was renowned for catching students out of bed. 

Of course, it wasn't Charley's fault he was out of bed after curfew. Someone had changed the password for the common room and 'forgotten' to tell him so now Charley was running away from the crazy caretaker and his crazy cat. Charley heard his feet pounding on the ground while the caretaker's steps began to come closer and closer. Charley realised he couldn't win this way and so began to concentrate on one way he knew he could win.

It was cheating but if Charley didn't want to lose house points, serve detention or be expelled then he had to do this. He stopped turned and looked directly into the caretakers mind. Before either Charley or Filch could even blink he was there.

Charley found himself in a wasteland. The sky was pale- it's features indistinct so Charley wasn't sure what time it was but guessed it was day. The ground was littered with pages which blew around, catching on dead and dying shrubs and weeds- desolated. Charley interpreted this to mean that to Filch it was useless information. Such a mind, Ginny had taught him, was the product of cynical learning- common among Squibs. Accessing this information Charley took pity on him.

He implanted the compulsion to ignore all redheaded students and left the mind, covering his tracks as Ginny had told him he had to do as long as the Headmaster was around. Charley assumed the Headmaster was a Legilimens but Ginny hadn't said so. He did the same to Mrs. Norris, noting with amusement that the cat was rather intelligent. Turning away he began to wonder around the halls.

Turning the corner he bumped into a confused looking Bill.

"Bill?"

"Charley- what are you doing out here?"

"I should ask you the same question"

"Well- I'm a prefect. I'm supposed to patrol. And since your third year you don't have that excuse."

"Someone changed the password and didn't tell me. I've been out since dinnertime"

"Come on then- I can get you in bed"

"How?"

"I'll _find_ a way in" Charley took the hint. The Weasley boys had kept their powers a secret like their mother had told them to. Bill because it could endanger him and Charley because it was a dark trait. Percy's ability was rather common- but Charley and Bill had advised him to keep it to himself and not to mention their abilities. Percy was a smart boy and had kept quiet.

"Thanks Bill, come on. I'll show you to the Slytherin common room entrance." Charley began to take Bill down to the dungeons using the winding and often moving passage ways that all Slytherin first years memorised.

"How do you ever find your way there if you have to follow these all the time?"

"It's simple really. First years have to do it all the time. I thought all the houses would have the same…"

"Nope- ours is easy to find- very straight forward. There aren't even trick steps"

"Yeah, watch out for this one-"Charley pointed out a trick step in the stairs they were walking down "it actually sucks you in the longer you stand on it. Apparently you find yourself in the lake if you stay there long enough." Charley made two left turns in a row, three right ones, a left, a right and another right and they were standing in front of a bare, damp, stone wall.

"Is this it?"

"Yeah, not very creative now is it. I hear Gryffindor has a nice portrait."

"I know about that one. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have towers. It sucks living in a cellar. Now- I think this should work so just give me a bit of slack if it doesn't, _I want to find a way in_" Bill's voice took on a different tone and his hair shifted slightly, like a breeze had passed through it, before a wooden door shifted into existence. Charley was a little shocked. That wasn't his common room door.

"Bill…"

"There you go Charley- and next time…"

"Bill! That's not the entrance. The entrance is a _stone_ archway! No wood!"

"Well then, what do you suppose this thing is?"

"I don't know- but whatever it is I'm betting it doesn't lead into Slytherin Common room. Come on then"

"Charley!" He was already gone. "Little brothers" He followed without further ado.

* * *

It was the morning of December 21st- the year Percy was sorted into Ravenclaw- that Ron came out of his bedroom with four life changing vials of potion. It was a silver colour with gold and purple streaks. He was a bit confused as to what he should do with them, but held them none the less firmly. Ginny was the first person he saw and with a whispered word she followed him silently. Charley and Percy were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas while Bill was staying with one of his friends. 

They arrived in the twin's room to see them sitting over a cauldron they'd stolen from Mum as was the norm.

"Hey!"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"We're brewing here!"

"We knew that dung-head. I can smell a potion brewing from thirty feet. No, this is more important. Freeze whatever you're doing and come and look at this." Knowing that their little brother wouldn't have called about this sort of a meeting unless he was dead serious, they froze the Cauldron with a wandless:

"_Torpeo"_ The fire and liquid froze instantly. "That'll buy us a few hours. What exactly is going on?"

"Hermione sent me this letter. We've been exchanging letters and she gave me this. We need to really consider it" It was written in code.

Dear Ron,

I have added, along with this letter four stoppered doses of a potion I took a few years ago. I've sent one to Harry also. It's a potion which was given to me to take out the impurities of my blood, or rather my Muggle heritages. It filled me instead with magic. The change has been strong but I now understand I am no longer human in the Muggle sense.

Don't feel you have to use this potion; I'm giving it to you because I didn't think it was fair that I get the chance and you don't. If you don't want to use it destroy it. It can only be used before the magical core freezes in place, before your eleventh birthday. So the twins will have less time than you or Ginny may have- should you choose to take it.

If you do use it, transfigure a bench made of metal with non-staining and non-sticking charms on it. I'd recommend that you collect the blood and have on hand blood replenishing potions. It wasn't necessary for me and I don't think it will be for you- but the precaution should be taken. The blood can be used in several blood rituals to increase magical power. From what I saw after my death, Ginny and the Twins should know about this.

Furthermore, when the potion is ingested it can take a few hours before the process is complete- so find a way to take your parents out of the equation.

Make your own decisions and good luck.

Hermione.

"Oh"

"My"

"God!"

"So the Potion did exist, or does. What did she mean by she's not human in the Muggle sense?" Ginny asked the gleeful twins.

"It has to do with the cleansing of impurities."

"To clean out the blood"

"Of all non-magical blood"

"You have to bleed it all away."

"And because she doesn't have her mother or father's blood"

"She's not really human. Not to mention she'd be a bit more magic"

"Than Human"

"This potion is LEGENDARY!"

"It's supposed to prevent the birth"

"-of Squibs! But it's theorised"

"-that a potion"

"-with this ones'"

"-properties would be excruciating."

"Worse than a Cruciatus held"

"-by three or four Wizards."

"Luckily it's also theorised that it decreases if you"

"-have more than half"

"-magical ancestry."

"Poor Hermione"

"Yeah, she says her grandmother is a Squib, that means she's got what- a quarter magical blood? Ouch"

"Well, what's for it? We can use a sleep spell on Mum and Dad- and it's done. We could have it done tonight"

"I don't know" The other three looked at Ron strangely. "Why do we even need this? I mean we're as pure-blooded as anyone. What's the point?"

"I never want a child of mine to be a Squib. It's a horrible idea. That's why" Ginny quickly snapped at her brother.

"But are you willing to sacrifice your human heritage? Hermione's talked about this growing feeling that she's not quite human."

"Our human Heritage has been to be Wizards. We'd be sacrificing our children's possible magical heritage to destroy it."

"It's a remote possibility that that could happen."

"What do you two think about this one?" Ginny turned to her older brothers smugly. Ginny knew that her brother's would agree with her.

"Ginny's right, we should take this chance while it's there"

"This is a once in a hundred lifetime's opportunity."

"You don't just throw that away"

"Then when do we do it?" Ron gave up in defeat.

"Tonight. We sleep charm them after dinner, put them in bed- set a few dish cleaning spells and go out into the field to do it. We know just the place" Ron was the only one who seemed to see something wrong about this.

* * *

Ginny's back arched her small frame a mirror of silent pain. She was the lucky one who'd chosen to go first. She was the guinea pig through consent. How she cursed, at that moment, her choice. How she whished for that moment that she had never taken it. How she whished she'd never been born, both times. 

The potion was burning her. The reaction had been instant, and in that moment she had questioned her own motives. Had she been sane? It spread, and it twisted inside of her like a vile snake searching for an exit, any exit. She felt her clothes begin to dampen and began clawing at herself. She begged for the release of death, that was how painful it was. The pain was too much, her own screaming too loud, to allow her to beg them to put her out of her misery.

She felt her nails cutting through her own flesh and eventually cracking and breaking away. She clawed at her face, at her arms, her chest and neck. She pulled skin clear off, peeling it in places, revealing muscle tissue and in places bone. Ron was sick while the twins merely tried to restrain her. Her screams were heard throughout Ottery St. Catchpole by Muggle and Wizard alike. No one remarked anything more of it though- especially not the Muggles who had years of Muggle repelling charms on their psyche. They no longer noticed most of the strange occurrences of the Burrow.

The Brothers watched in a sick fascination as Ginny began to sweat. The sweat was a little reddish to begin with until they realised that she was sweating blood. Up until this point they had hoped it would merely come out through her nose, eyes and ears. Apparently not, the brothers thought grimly. The pain would be a hundred times worse now.

Ginny became thoroughly drenched in her own blood. She tasted it, she smelt it and worst of all she felt it. She felt every tiny nerve in her burning, even the ones she'd formerly ripped clean off. Her mind was telling her to just fall unconscious, just pass out- but her body and magic wouldn't let it. Nope- it wouldn't even consider it.

The emptiness encompassed Ginny, filling with the pain. She lost track of time as she was tormented in her void of pain and fear. But she was not out yet. Her eyes shut closed, her screams now silenced by the twins, her arms bound to prevent her doing more damage to herself. She struggled for a time, but eventually it settled. It seemed that Ginny had passed out. The boys backed away, looking at the horrible vision of their sister.

They'd cast not stick charms on her and the bench and set the appropriate collection bottle underneath the bench to her blood. In this way the blood nearly all moved off of her- it was in this way that the three brothers could see the damage so clearly. Her skin had come off in several places, her eyes had managed to be gorged out, her mouth was open in a silent scream, her beautiful red locks- uncut from birth- were matted with blood, bones had been snapped in her forceful thrashings, she looked dead, but the brothers knew the untruth of that. She could not die during the consequences of the potion. The magical change, the sheer magical force of the affect, made her immortal for the time involved in the transformation. The immortality was the only way to keep her alive during the pain and blood loss. How they wished they could have put her out of her misery.

How could they do this to their sister? Why hadn't the restrained her? Why did they let her take the potion? What where they thinking? Ron was especially concerned about the possibilities of living without eyes or with permanent scars. Ginny's beautiful face was marred with scars- ugly scars on the most beautiful girl in the world. Curse Hermione for giving this to them. The Twins were thinking about the pain she had gone through already. When she woke up… the pain was likely to be unbearable. Fred quietly approached to try to heal what he could. He didn't manage to touch her.

Ginny felt the sudden filling, the sudden happiness, that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. It was strange, her pain stricken mind absently noted. Where was the pain? Where was the hurt? Ginny couldn't help but wonder. She felt better. It was all becoming better. Her pain backed away, almost systematically. Light flashed before her eyes.

The boys watched on in wonder. As Fred had reached out Ginny's skin had began remoulding into her former, whole, shape. Her scars melted into clear, unmarked skin. Blood dried dramatically, her clothes became stiff with it. The open muscle knitted together seamlessly, silently, the bone healed. Ginny's eyelids closed as light surrounded her former scars and then it was gone. Ginny opened beautiful brown eyes once again.

She stumbled, almost tripping. She could feel herself. She felt whole, complete in a way she had never been in both of her lives. Her magic felt whole. Her brothers caught her as she almost fell. Their touch brought out a magic in her she hadn't known before. Just a little touch and she knew they ate too many sweets, their hair was lacklustre because they didn't eat the right foods in correct proportions, they were happy boys who regularly felt the adrenalin rush of excitement. Their hearts were strong. Their magic sang from the exercise they put it through. She knew it. It was overwhelming. Their bond, as twins, kept them both more alert and mentally ahead than they cared to let on- but she'd always known that.

"Fred, George."

"What is it Ginny?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now. It's over now and I feel fine, just a bit dizzy." In fact the only part that felt bad was her mind. She felt worse then when she'd instructed Charley to try to break through her defences, which had ended with him unconscious and her head throbbing painfully. "I have to sit down" Ginny sat heavily on the ground, crunching leaves.

"Do you need a drink of water?"

"Something to eat?" She felt a little bit hungry- but didn't say anything. They had to keep things going if they wanted to beat sunrise.

"No- it's your turn Ron."

"Ginny- are you sure"

"Yes! We have to keep going if we want to get this done before sunrise. I'm better now."

"But…"

"You can't just stop now! All three of you are going to go through with this. You're going to make me go through that alone?" She gave her brothers piercing looks to which they all cowered. Ginny looked up. They were in a clearing among the Apple tree's in the Orchard. Fred and George had chosen it because it was on a Ley line. It wasn't a node (crossing between two ley lines) or a particularly strong ley line, but it still had some magical meaning, and all of them appreciated that such places were the sort of place rituals and transformations like this should be done.

"We'll go through it together." Fred and George shared a look which Ginny interpreted as an entire silent conversation.

"We don't think we have enough time"

"to do it all individually."

"This time I'll restrain you, Ginny can too" Ron said quickly, not forgetting the horror of Ginny's unrestrained agony.

"Thanks mate." Ginny got up and changed the bottles to one that was twice as large as the other one. In magic the twins were the same person, and in blood their blood connected to the two of them. So blood from one magical twin was always the same as blood from another magical twin. It was one of the many mysteries of magic.

After a quick muttered _"Scrungify"_ and _"Abluo"_ and Ginny's blood was wiped clean off of the bench. Ron restrained them with at least thirteen spells of incarceration, before he and Ginny tilted back the potions simultaneously down their throats, at the last second Ginny whispered _"Relaxo"_ while pointing at each of their vocal-cords with her forefinger. They didn't know it- but they'd thank her after this was over.

Like Ginny, the Twins felt the immediate heat spread like fire down their throats and through them. However, though they felt it they firmly refused to scream, so their mouths were kept tightly shut. This wasn't a very smart idea though, given the circumstances. For future reference, the Twin's minds noted, when in a large amount of pain which you know will either last for a long time or will be excruciating or even both- do not bite your lip. They soon found themselves both biting through their lips with little to no problems- almost chewing them off entirely.

The pain was overbearing and complete. Their blood began to boil in their veins, their minds cooked and every part of their bodies began to excrete hot blood- blood that steamed in the cold winter air. As the pain reached higher and higher heights the twins couldn't help it and lost control, simply attempting to scream their lungs out. All that came out was a deep wheeze. The pain kept rising, the wheeze became more pronounced and the twins began screaming at each other mentally. What none of them had even thought to try and prevent happened; as the pain blew the rational minds out of the twins and they in turn, turned their screaming mental fury outward, toward their unwitting siblings.

Even more unfortunate for the unwitting siblings was that they'd put up wards to stop people from generally trying to stop them. Among these wards were mental wards the twins themselves had insisted on putting in place. Now a mental ward, as the Wizarding world knew it, wasn't very complex nor was it particularly intelligent. It stopped mental attacks from the outside, sure, but it worked as a glass dome in that it didn't let mental push out as well as in. It actually reflected it back. Now if it had just been the twins screaming and attacking Ron and Ginny, that would have hurt, unfortunately they now had the mental echoes and the screaming twins- ouch.

As the blood began to flow off of their thrashing bodies' flashes of light began to flicker. The flicker turned to heat and the heat turned to flame. Eventually the blood was coming off of their restrained bodies in waves. Ron and Ginny would have been awed and even frightened, but unfortunately they'd been knocked unconscious by their brothers and saw none of it. The twins, however, did feel it- even if their eyes were closed. As the blood dripped away from them it stopped burning and returned to normal blood, but the fire remained on and inside of them.

Eventually the twins felt themselves shying away, drawing into themselves from the sheer force of pain. It seemed to last decades and a moment, the harsh feeling of irrational loneliness overcame the two of them. Reaching out mentally the two sought comfort and found it within each other. The magic burned and twisted inside before calm came. Their connection- forged by birth and strengthened by rebirth was deepening with- this, whatever this was. The feeling wasn't new but the depths were- body, mind, soul and magic they were the same person as they had always been.

It was as if through their decades together their bond which had enabled them to do so much had only been temporary, a mere flicker of what was there now. It had matured, grown, deepened and now it was complete. Now it was as it should have been originally. How it felt the twins would never share, their own stupid pride working against them. They'd never admit it but they felt right, just right, at that moment.

The barren emptiness inside was ignored but the same was not true for the next process. The could not ignore the subsequent filling; which the books and theories had all explained was a necessity for the affect soon came to them- making them larger and… better.

Their eyes opened simultaneously and instead of their usual brown ones, red iris's were exposed to the night air. Realising what had happened to them the twins shared a mental thought /Wicked/. They turned to their siblings and mentally nudged them awake. Ron and Ginny were slow to rise, but once they were up they released the twins immediately with several counter spells. The twins weren't as affected negatively as Ginny had been- but the woozy drunkenness in their movements was there. It served to alarm Ron as they were stumbling around and causing several small fires.

"You're on fire"

"Nice of you to say"

"Little brother" The fire receded- leaving them naked as their clothes had burnt to ash already. Ginny and Ron immediately summoned Fred and George's clothes.

"Mum's going to kill you two"

"Especially since its winter and those were good clothes" Ginny berated Fred as she put on his jacket for him, nicely covering him. "Fred, George- how do you feel?" Ginny began to get them to sit on the cold ground. She felt bare skin and knew that they felt fine and neither had noticed that their lips were bitten through. With a muttered curse she began to push at it with magic subconsciously. All three of the boys didn't notice as the twins bottom lips mended, knitted, together; leaving small- almost unnoticeable- scars just on the lip.

"Your turn little"

"Brother." Ron really didn't want to, and Ginny could see it in his face. Her face turned to rage and Ron took a step backwards.

"You have to"

"You practically ripped off your own skin and they fricken just psycho slapped us down! Are you fucking kidding me?" The twins shared a look. Ron didn't swear. He'd sworn it off, so to speak; but he tended to go back to it when he was upset or felt he was in immediate danger- which he likely was now.

"Ron, that's the price for this. You died before we started the rituals to survive. We have a chance to flounce them all and do this in less than a moment!"

"Gin- that's not really tru…" George tried to interrupt her but she was on a roll.

"Tell him, George- Fred, tell him it's worth the pain! Tell him anything's worth the pain to save them!"

"We don't need this Ginny" Ron pleaded, looking into his furious sister's eyes. "We have the mental training, the know how- maybe even the magic already that we didn't have the first time. We have our advantage. We know what's going to happen next. We can take Voldemort on and win!"

"Where is that advantage going to get us! Ron, Harry's already had to sit back and watch Voldemort kill his parents! The advantage is slipping through our fingers. Hermione's a pureblood now. Charley and Bill didn't have those powers the first time around and you all know it. Something we've done has somehow given or unlocked our brothers' powers and changed everything! Charley's a Slytherin now! Bill's a Hufflepuff. And Peter- we trapped Peter and the world goes and changes completely. We didn't see what would happen next and to be honest we've never had a clue. Most of my knowledge from the ministry is down the drain now because half of them are in Azkaban! Dad's got a new job now- our entire identity as Weasley's has changed. We have money! Where are our advantages now? What's going to happen next Ron? What's in the great plan for us next?"

"Maybe your right about the advantages Ginny, but what the hell do you think is going to happen next with this god-dammed potion! It's unpredictable to say the least, Ginny. George and Fred burst into Flames for Christ sake. I don't know what it's going to do and none of you do either. This was all a mistake and I see that now. Why can't you?"

"You can't back out now! We've all gone through with it already!"

"But what happens next! Am I going to grow antlers? Maybe I'll turn into Water! How about a nice tail, I've always wanted a tail. I could perhaps grow a beard! For Merlin's sake I could end up back in my original body. How do I get to Hogwarts then? How do we explain this all to our Mum- Dad? What's mum going to say when Fred flames up- or when your knee scabs over miraculously? Or I have a tail!"

"She'll say 'Oh my Gosh, we forgot to test the smallest' and be done with it. Hell, she might even test Fred and George and find a third ability for the rule of three"

"And how do you explain it when Mum wakes up to find our beds empty…"

"Shut up Ron. Just give it a rest. They'll never even know we were out of our beds. It took less than two hours for the Twins and about three for me. If you shut up and just take this then we can all be saved the fricken pain of Mum and Dad dieing. Hell, maybe if you grew a tail you'd be able to run away with it between your legs! You great big chicken shit."

"Shut the hell up, Ginny"

"That's enough"

"We're family- remember that"

"Ron are you taking it or not" Ginny gave him a piercing glare which he returned, not giving George a look as he replied in a dead whisper.

"Restrain me" The twins began setting up for Ron, restraining, tying down and replacing bottles before he could take the potion. Fred was about to administer the life changing potion when Ginny snatched it out of his hand with a sort of defeated sigh.

"Wha…"

"Let me do it" She leaned down and kissed Ron's forehead turning to whisper in his ear so the Twins couldn't hear. "You're my big Brother Ron- I don't want to see you die again. We're still family. Do this for your family. I'll watch and make sure you're fine. Nothing's going to hurt you more than necessary" Her tone was laced with a calm and gentle magic which Ron picked up on, though didn't remark more on it. It was a strange magic, but it made him feel better- relaxed. She opened his rigid mouth and poured potion in. Almost forgetting to cast _"Relaxo" _on his vocal cords before he could begin screaming, she quickly did and stepped back.

Ron's eyes closed as the heat travelled down his throat. He was in pain but his sister's magic was still in his head, keeping him calm and disconnecting the pain from his mind. Ron would have smiled if he wasn't quite so rigid around the mouth; Ginny was actually shielding him from the pain? But what were the implications of that? Ron's eye's shot open, giving him a view of the heavens in a weird sudden clarity.

With a harsh sort of push Ginny's magic was expelled from his mind and Ron began to feel the overwhelmingly and desperately heavy pain held back for mere moments. This was made all the more excruciating for the fact that he hadn't felt the build up. Ron's mouth opened in a hollow, low pitched, scream. His brothers and sister merely looked on in grim sympathy. However their and his transformations were uniquely different- even though all four of them were unaware of this fact, yet. Ron felt the intense need to arch his back as the potion seemed to concentrate in on the area right between his shoulder blades.

Ginny's first hunch that something was different was the pulsing. From her vague memories of her own reaction to the potion she knew that she'd sweated out the blood before she'd been pitted into a void- an all consuming emptiness. There had been no pulsing and Ron should be sweating already. She watched, understanding that the potion was indeed unpredictable from person to person, and as she watched she knew that Ron was going to be drastically different at the end of this.

Fred and George shared mental conversation when they saw that Ron was pulsing, though didn't think much of it. They were concerned, however, when his veins began to stick out noticeably and then extremely with each pulsing. There was no light like Ginny's healing but neither was there any sort of a physical or light identification to it. He was simply pulsing strangely.

It was when blood began to seep out from underneath him that all three of them knew that they should do something. He wasn't sweating out his blood? Ginny's first instinct was to take his hand. She didn't quite understand the instinct or what it would do to help but followed it anyway. She gasped as she touched him, her eyes turning from brown to amber, and then to gold as she held on for the ride.

The sensation was strange and natural, a weird mix between the human senses and magic- and with it she could see, feel, hear, smell, and taste every part of the body- using her magic to fix and remove things. The heart beat was irregular, his pulse was haywire and most important to her senses his body was filled with what his magic recognised as a 'foreign magical substance' or terms like that. Her first instinct was to remove it, but her mind quickly stopped that. Nope- that was not a good idea. Her second instinct was to 'read' it. Before her eyes a silver substance took form.

As she 'read' it she found several purposes, focuses and effects. The first was the focus on magic; the second was the focus on blood, the third was the focus on purity and strength while the fourth was to preserve the life no matter the consequence. Ginny instinctively knew these were the intentions which had been written into the potion as it had been brewed. Unfortunately nowhere in this potion was there any sort of desire for it to be painless. No substances which tried to alleviate pain had been included because they detracted from the four main goals, magic, blood, strength/purity and immortality. Too many purposes would contradict each other and weaken the potion.

The purpose or task that the potion first undertook, brought on by an ingredient that made her shiver, was to find the magical core of every cell. The second analysed it, splitting raw magic from specialised areas or talent and ability. The third, regardless of what the second found, was to expand on each of these. It could not make magic take different forms; its only intent was to blow up what was there crudely. This created heat the fourth could use.

The fourth's purpose was making the body sweat and the blood boil with the product of the third. The fifth was to replace the salt and water which the body usually tried to excrete with blood. The sixth was to fill the place left behind by what the potion identified as 'impure blood' which didn't have the magic in it, with the exploding magic. Unfortunately this could take several moments and in those several moments the person was in fact a squib- they no longer possessed enough magic to be magical.

The magic which was then left over was directed by the seventh purpose into the bone marrows where the bones were told to produce blood and blood cells at a heightened level. Some of this was being done on a cellular level, some on a protein level, a bit on a smaller level Ginny had no names for- but a lot of it was being done on an organ by organ level.

Ginny saw that the potion had in fact changed the ratio's of certain organs and their relationships with the other organs. The way the body was structured modified to accommodate for more magic. It was because it was being done this way that the potion had hitched inadvertently. While somewhere around the spinal column the potion had identified several magical 'genes', for that was the only way Ginny could explain them, which held the outlines for magically sustained, flight giving wings.

Not small wings either- almost forty foot wing span once fully matured with the onset of puberty. The blueprints specified that they were to be on a ratio of about 1:6, 1 being height and 6 being wingspan- and Ginny could see in the blueprints Ron would easily scale about 6' 4" with proper resources. Once the potion had seen this it had been forced by its nature to accommodate. That's why Ron wasn't sweating yet.

Step 2 had seen something and step 3 was trying to finish its job while the others just had to sit back and wait. Meanwhile Ron was still heating up dangerously because process three still produced heat even if step four wasn't able to use it. The body wasn't even sweating normally- which Ginny couldn't see a clear reason for.

This information and conclusion flashed in seconds. Ginny knew what was happening and she now saw that she herself had enough magic to help Ron. Sending her magic into Ron she began to follow step three, cooling Ron down to higher than normal but acceptable levels- still allowing the pain to take its course because it was needed.

Fred and George watched their still sister in doubt. What the hell was she doing? Blood was spilling out from Ron's back, but she wasn't doing more than holding his hand? Deciding that they should do something more- the Twins began casting levitation spells on Ron allowing him to spill liberal amounts of blood all over themselves and Ginny. Ginny barely blinked, though they didn't notice her golden eyes. After a while of considering putting Ron down, they noticed that bones were sticking out of Ron's back. A moment of observation and they saw them growing. /Wings/ They recognised, laughing mentally at the irony of the situation. No tail for Ron- it was Wings!

Ginny continued to hold her brother's hand as step three's immediate job began to come to an end. The wing structure was in place and now all that was needed were the feathers and a bit more tissue. Unfortunately the potion held no instructions to do that and so let it be to grow a bit more naturally. He'd be sore for weeks, tender for about a month more- but he'd live. Now the potion hit step 4 and Ginny let go. She wasn't needed. Her eyes dulled to amber and then brown.

The twins were holding Ron up as he began to sweat out blood. He'd lost a lot so far and he might need a blood replenisher potion, but they had a heavy duty one on hand for that possibility. They didn't have much choice now, to be honest. If they put him down on those fragile looking wings he'd most likely hurt them and if they put him down on his stomach he'd probably drown in his own blood. With long suffering sighs they gave up and just watched as Ron sweated blood.

Meanwhile, Ron was in a state of absolute agony. He'd felt Ginny's calm and cooling touch, but now that it was gone it seemed so much worse than before. It was like he'd had his hand in a bowl of cooling water and suddenly had it ripped out of that one and put into a bowl of searing hot boiling water. His back ached with vengeance, though not as much as before, and he could tell he was sweating- rapidly losing blood through every pore of his body. His low, hollow voice was screaming- but it didn't matter and he knew it.

After so very long of being held in the air, suspended in an agonising horror- Ron felt empty. He felt as if he'd given and given and now no longer had anything left to give. A void closed around him, filling with silent- low- screams of terror which Ron didn't realise were his own. Eventually this passed and Ron's pain lifted, leaving him spattering and choking in mid air. He felt horrible and woozy wasn't a word he'd use to describe the pounding headache at all. He just wanted to crawl into a tiny ball and die.

"Good day my wing-ed brother"

"How are you feeling?"

"Like you're on cloud nine- I'd say"

"Like your very own guardian angel is in town and giving you a ride around town on his new broom stick?"

"That was a good one, George"

"Why thankyou Fred" The twins released the restrictions and bindings on Ron.

"Will you two shut up!" Ron almost blew a casket- his head ached painfully as he raised his own voice.

"You think rather high and mighty of yourself, don't you?" They both snickered but Ron was merely non-pulsed.

"You two didn't decide to try any of those Indian 'Herbs' while I was out of it again- did you"

"Unfortunately, not"

"Unfortunately, indeed"

"Unfortunately certainly"

"Unfortunately, without a doubt"

"Unfortunately, no"

"What are you two on about? Now will you please shut up" This time it was Ginny who spoke out, throwing a stick at George. Her voice gave Ron the opportunity to realise he was being levitated.

"Uhhhh"

"He doesn't know!"

"Unfortunately Ron, you've gone and developed wings as a part of your recent transformation" Ron tried to do a flip to try and see these appendages which caused the twins to laugh voraciously as he span pointlessly. Eventually he stopped spinning mid air and simply turned his head to see the pinkish thing growing out of his back. Watching for a moment he was sickened to see they were still growing before his eyes.

"Shit"

"I'd second that"

"What do we tell Mum?" Ron asked while still looking at the bony soon to be appendages that were sticking out of his back.

"It's simple really; we put some blood in your sheets and let her 'discover' you in the morning. No what really interests me is what are you now? Are you still human? Are you some sort of an angel?"

"We'd like to put forth a possibility"

"Try me; right now I don't think there's much you could say to freak me out more than bird bones sticking out of my back."

"It's possible that from birth you've always been meant to have wings and you just didn't have the power."

"In our research of powerful rituals and such"

"-we came across several cases where the ritual gave a tail, a horn and even eyes. The common theories about this"

"-was that the magic needed to sustain them weren't there to begin with but the ritual allowed for it, so…"

"No- that's not it."

"Huh?"

"Ron's probably a little stronger than both of you magically- and he's not so much stronger than you now. Think about how much magic would have to be involved to make and sustain a pair of wings. No- this was the potion in and of itself"

"But Ginny- there have been cases in the older family's for children to have wings, tails, horns- it's most likely that they're hereditary"

"But where in our family has there ever been a winged person. I don't even think Mum's side has had particularly strange magical children and I know that the only magically strange Weasley child for generations was one of our Great, Great Uncles who had a partial natural Animagi gift."

"Then why are there so many of us in one generation. Answer that, huh. Why are there so many children in one generation- one decade- with magical abilities? Bill, Charley, Percy, Us, obviously you and now Ron. No- they're hereditary and the excess magic has brought them about now"

"You don't get it. I was _in_ Ron. I could feel the potion. I know what it does, the intentions of the brewer, I know the tasks and I can still taste the magic of it. One of the potion's parts was to analyse the magical parts and another was to blow it up. The potion analysed Ron's magically possible wings and then it blew it up until it just started growing. I know"

"Then that's what you are."

"You're some sort of a healer."

"I don't know, but I do know that it was through the potion that Ron has wings. It's instinctive"

"Ginny! Do you know how many natural Healers there are in the country- none! Japan has a few dozen and I think there's one in Denmark somewhere- but none in Brittain." Ron all but blurted out. He was staring.

"It's possible this isn't even natural healing. Don't get your hopes up"

"Yeah- stop staring Ronnikens- you're the one with the wings." Ron blushed.

"Can someone let me down? The sky's lightening and we'll need to get changed. You lot need to get the blood out of your hair and I need to put some in my bed."

"We'd love to."

"You know- we usually don't like to tell this to a bird"

"-Chicks simply don't dig it-"

"But you're awfully heavy" Ron was heavily insulted by all three of those innuendo's- but Ginny was the one to extract revenge for him with a bat-bogey hex they didn't doge quickly enough.

"Ginny!" The both cried aloud; cradling their noses as things began to try to escape. The longer they held them in- the bigger they'd be when they got out. Ginny almost laughed.

"Serves you right for being so sexist" She began to undo the twins levitation charm, lowering Ron as carefully as she could onto his feet. He took to it well enough but Ginny still supported him as he stood.

"Thanks Gin"

"No problem" The bats had finally gotten out and were attacking the twins who were trying to disable or somehow dispel them. They weren't having much luck. Ron and Ginny watched on in amusement as one managed to bite _and_ claw at Fred's ear.

"We're sorry, just get rid of these!"

"How sorry are you"

"Very sorry"

"Very, very sorry"

"Good." Wordlessly she waved her hand and the bats flew away.

"Where are they off to?"

"A bat colony, I'd think. Come on, it really is getting early"

"But shouldn't they have just turned into bogey again?"

"No. I've been playing with the spell's effects and numbers so I changed the spell to make them permanent without a noticeable effect to the incantation, light and bats themselves. It's all about an extra twisted jab. Shooting at it with a '_Finite'_ does pretty much nothing now, as you've seen and demonstrated nicely."

"We love to be of service"

"You'd better or else then what would I do with you?"

"You know you love us"

"-really"

"Of course, in an annoying older brother prat sort of way"

"-how else would you?"

"We mean, gross Ginny- we're still…"

"Will you just give it a rest? The barmy potion's giving me a headache"

"Don't worry; it's an after effect of rearranging your brain. I'd work double time on trying to re-enforce your Occlumency"

"It did what?"

"How did you think you were going to manage to get all that magic? Things had to be re-arranged to accommodate. The normal human body just doesn't have the optimum structure it could for containing magic."

"Whoa there, slow down. What the?"

"Some of your organs will be differently sized, new ratio's- umm, and your appendix is larger. From what I could gather it was excreting a hormone or other which stimulated the growth rate and production of innate magic. Or at least it was in Ron."

"Ginny, I've just seen the downside of having a Healer in the family. Exactly how do you know all of this?"

"I think I saw it. I don't know how- I just know what I do."

"Yeah well, just keep some things to yourself. Some of us just don't want to know"

"You'll want to know why when you get pregnant"

"What!" All three boys stopped, their faces turning white.

"I was kidding. Predictable- I mean really"

* * *

"RON!" A very distressed Molly Weasley was heard to shout as she came to rouse her sleeping son. His bed was covered in a thick layer of blood and bones were sticking out of his back awkwardly. 

"Mum?" Ron acted sleepy, though it wasn't hard, for his mother.

"What happened to your back, honey?" She began coddling him, touching all the wrong spots- trying to comfort him.

"They're sore, my backs aching" Molly stopped hyperventilating enough to see the soon to be appendages were twitching slightly.

"Wings" She barely whispered loud enough for Ron to hear. "Arthur!" A few moments later Arthur Weasley stood in the doorway to see the sight of his son sitting in his obviously blood stained bed while Molly sat on the edge of the bed, obviously shocked and very much disturbed. Molly herself bore flaking brown blood all over herself.

"What's happened?"

"Wings Arthur, Ron has Wings." She stood up and moved to the side, letting Arthur have a better view. There- coming out of Ron's back were two bony looking protrusions and minor scaring from where the things had come out. He sputtered before staring in shock for a few moments.

"Wha… how? No one on my side has anything like this and I know Wings don't just pop up!"

"There's nothing like this on my side of the family!" Arthur took Molly's hand and took her into the Hall- out of Ron's hearing.

"Wait, wait, and wait- the Blacks get this occasionally. Maybe this came through from them?"

"We're both Black relatives. It's possible… but I'm so far distantly related. And you're second cousin. We're not that close. And in all the generations- 6 of them! Why now? Shouldn't the wings have come through earlier? He's seven for goodness sake. Why now? Why not when he was born or when he hit puberty?"

"Well, if there's one magical trait we all share on the Weasley side magically- it's that we're late bloomers. Maybe Ron is?"

"I don't think so. How did we miss this though, shouldn't it have shown up on any number of the tests? I know the Animagi and transfigurations revealers would have given us some sort of clue…"

"Molly…"

"What?"

"We didn't test Ron or Ginny. Ron had just been born when we found out George and Fred could turn invisible."

"Oh no…" Molly began to think through the implications that they hadn't tested all of their children appropriately. "Your right of course- we didn't test Ginny either. GOD Arthur! She's seventh daughter!"

"I didn't know it meant anything or I would have remembered…"

"It means everything Arthur. Especially in my family- Gordon Prewett, Adriana Bones… gosh even Nicole Levy! All of them seventh children and all magical prodigy's- heck, Nicole had an older brother and Gordon had two older sisters. Ginny takes after my side enough as it is without this. She's six and we don't even know! She could be losing magic as we speak!"

"Don't be hysterical now, Molly. We found out about Bill when he was almost nine. Ginny can wait another thirty minutes."

"How do we know that? You know what they say about older gifts. The longer you've known about them the more pronounced they are. She could have anything- could be anything, an Animagus or even a Green Witch!"

"But shouldn't we have… I don't know- noticed?"

"I have noticed. Oh my god- lots of little things that I just put to the side. She's incredibly bright, even for a witch. She's always accidentally magicking something this way and that. We have to test them- now if not very soon."

"What about Ron, do we test him too?"

"I think it's for the best we do. He could have more"

"I don't know, Molly. All of his older brothers have had one- what says he should have more?"

"We never did test Fred and George. They may have more."

"That's a bit far fetched."

"There are two of them and it can't hurt, can it"

* * *

ArthurWeasley's psyche was not enjoying the effects of so many magically gifted children. It had been a major blow to his ego when Arthur had pointed his wand at the boys and began to run through the non-lethal revealing charms to find the boys did in fact have more magical abilities. Four of them were apparent without lethal charms. A fifth hidden ability was apparent from taking hair from the boys. It added up to a surprising total of 6 abilities; invisibility, strong fire sympathy, Animagi, a damaged and retreating recuperative ability, and a unusable affinity to potion magic. The last two were strange results. 

Recuperative abilities were most commonly found in Metamorphmagus children who could grow back tissue. These were rare even among the rare. Arthur didn't know how the ability would work without the Metamorphmagus ability controlling it and the way it was retreating and damaged- it didn't look like the boys would keep it for very long. Such was the risk when parents waited to the advanced years to find abilities. Arthur regretted ever doubting his son's abilities.

Affinities were a lot like sympathies but instead of dealing with elements and affinity dealt with the basic types of magic. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and various others had affinities which a wizard/witch could be born with. They were rare and when found fully it meant the child should be steered to that specific type of magic. The fact that it was unusable only meant that the actual training of that subject's affinity wasn't needed. They would still be good potion brewers.

When Arthur then went to his youngest son to find out what other abilities he might possess he didn't get far as the house rattled with Molly's delighted scream.

"Arthur!" Arthur quickly ran as fast as he could to where he knew his wife would be- Ginny's room. He found Molly hugging Ginny and weeping about this or that. Ginny looked upset that her mother was crying and unsure. Arthur took this to mean that Molly had indeed found something special about the youngest daughter of the Weasley clan.

"Molly?" She looked up, still holding Ginny.

"Arthur! She's a Healer Arthur. She's a Healer!My Great, Great, Great Grand Aunt was and now she is too! Arthur the test says she's a Natural. She'll be the finest Healer in the country! We have to send her to a school for her talent. We should send her soon! My special Ginny" Molly gave Ginny's rigid form a tight hug.Ginny was stock still as she heard her mother proclaim the results of her test. This was not good.

* * *

**End Chapter.**

Next Chapter: **Lords and Sacrifices**


	7. Lords and Sacrifices

**Disclaimer – **The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

'**Parseltongue**'

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

Lost Time

Chapter 7

**Lords and Sacrifices**

* * *

The line of Slytherin has had many names; many, many names. Before it was Slytherin it was Slyther and before that it was Slyth. The Slyth line was as old as the old world, extending to magical Kings and Queens from magical Africa to magical Greece. So called Gods hailed from this line. And after it was called Slytherin it was called Luther. For a time it did not change until all that was left of the magical branch of what had become of Slytherin's heirs was a girl. Nimea Luther- a witch destined to set in motion the events over 600 years past when she herself would die. 

Raped and stolen into slavery this descendant of the old blood was taken by a man named Marlock Gaunt- a Muggle. Beaten into submission she sired him three sons of magical heritage. Unfortunately they were all bastards, for no magical marriage was agreed to and the line of Gaunt was from that day cursed. Land, title and wealth were taken away for Marlock Gaunt's most terrible crimes.

Years later Nimea escaped her husband, leaving behind her bastard sons who reminded her so of the disgusting Marlock. The sons of Gaunt were quickly taken up in Wizard record as the last living descendants of Slytherin and as far as the magical world was concerned the heiress was dead.

Nimea did not die, however. It was of course necessary to her that she marry and the line of Luther, the line of Slytherin, the line of Slyther, the line of Slyth, continued in an un-bastardised, pure and direct line. She found a worthy man in the mountainous regions of Wales. He was the esteemed and accomplished wizard Lord Shoran Wyatt.

Before the line of Wyatt was Wyatt it was Cyatt and before that it was Vencyatt and before that Ravenclatt and before that it was Ravenclaw. Lady Rowena Ravenclaw was not of a great line, but a member of several lessor lines which derived from the Muggleborn revolutions at the turn of the millennia. She came from France and through her mother held strong blood connection to all of the oldest of the French lines.

Knowing such facts, the heiress of Luther quickly began to court him. They married by the oldest powers of magic, binding their children to their lines, and she birthed him a son before she died in the process. The esteemed Lord Wyatt preserved his son, naming him Tristan, Heir of the lines of Wyatt and Luther.

Tristan was accepted as heir and his line continued. No distinction was ever made of the Luther and Wyatt lines- letting it be common misconception that the bastard line of Gaunt was the last of Slytherin and his own noble heritage. It was never common knowledge that the Wyatt line practiced Parselmagic via their Parseltongues.

During several wars in the late 1600's, the lines of Wyatt and Luther were nearly extinguished. As the last heir of these two great lines stumbled about the war-torn battlefield somewhere near Cardiff he was found by a wondering fey. Taking him in out of the kindness of its heart, the fey healed the dying man of his wounds. The two fell in love, married and she gave birth to Luned Wyatt.

Luned left her mother and father after falling in love with a local Muggleborn wizard who bore the name Dylan Nuada, a farmer. They married and she bore him three sons. Unfortunately he was killed by a local Dragon. Luned returned to her mother and father with her three sons. They took her into their home under the condition that the boys change their last names from Nuada to Wyatt.

All three Wyatt boys grew and took fey for wives. All three wives bore sons who married local witches, who bore sons who married witches, who bore sons who married fey, who bore sons who married witches. Every third generation the sons of Wyatt took fey for wives, breeding mixed magic into their very cores.

So the line Wyatt continued on until the 1800's. Due to an uprising in the Muggle blood and subsequent wars that followed; the aristocratic Wyatt family began to privately teach their children exclusively. It was a disadvantage in some ways and in others an advantage to the children. When they reached the real world they were confronted with people who were outside of their circles. However their unique abilities became completely unknown. Not a whisper was spoken about their strange powers or their unique magic's.

* * *

The system of seclusion worked well for the family Wyatt right up until the late 1950's. A mysterious fire erupted sometime in the night, killing fourteen members of the family. All those who were left were the youngest, smallest family of the larger family tree. They had been lucky to survive. And so the heavily pregnant wife, her husband and her four children were left alone in the world. 

After the fire the family found that the library was intact along with several fireproof area's of the castle, however- no longer wishing to live with memories of their departed family they took all of their possessions from the ruins and deposited them in the Gringotts bank before buying a nice home in Surrey, away from the magical community they had grown up shunning for its lethargic pace, monotony and magical ideals alike. Such was the upbringing of all traditional Wyatt children.

They settled down in their mansion sized home, deciding to forgo house-elves in favour of a Muggle butler- a butler by the name of Jason Evans. For a year all was peaceful. The children's education continued while Aaron Wyatt worked the affairs of the family. The butler was told only that the family was strange while several charms forbade him from talking about the family outside of their presence. He grew to love the family- and continued to work for them for the duration of their stay in Surrey.

Their stay, however- did not last long. Again in the middle of the night, in October- 1960- the House of the Wyatt family erupted in flames, trapping the family and killing all except the youngest. A newborn girl named Lilianth.

Luckily for the little Lilianth the Muggle Butler was there that night. He was driving out home, when he saw smoke coming out from the house. Quickly rushing back inside he was only able to make it to the nursery, where he saved a crying Lilianth from burning alive as was the fate of her family. Neighbours called the Fire Brigade, but they were too late and merely fished out the dead bodies after the fire had run its course. No identification was ever found for the unfortunate family- forever known as the Doe's on their gravestones in Muggle Suburbia.

As for Jason Evans, he took Lilianth Wyatt home and three weeks later she was Lily Evans.

* * *

Lily Evans sat in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, cradling her newborn- Harry James Potter. The Hospital itself didn't actually have a maternity ward- which merely confused Lily when she'd first been here. She'd been told in short order by her friend Helena that by the old customs, wizards were never involved in the actual birthing system. The family contacted midwives; who worked a lucrative business of only turning up about five minutes before the birth. Lily was outraged that she'd had to give birth alone thanks to her husband and the stupid ideals the Wizarding world came up with. 

She watched her special little boy and rocked him back and forwards. He looked so much like his father which only annoyed her. She loved her son but her husband was a moron in so many ways it just wasn't funny. Harry? It wasn't a name she'd give her first born- especially if she wanted him to be taken seriously. Narcissa had been in the right of it by calling her son something a little bit more dignified- but Draco was a bit much too. Helena wasn't expecting any time soon- maybe she had the right of it all?

No, Lily wanted children. She wanted magical children. She wanted to be there when little Harry's first toy floated or his first magically enhanced cry. She wanted to be there when his knee scabbed over or he played with his father's wand, his first broom flight even. Those were the things she wanted to see her son do. She just wanted to be there to see him doing the things she hadn't been able to do. She also gave it thought to start him on the magic's sooner? Maybe a few little charms when he was five or so.

The door opened and James came in, looking thoroughly tired. Putting on the biggest, fakest, smile she could muster she rocked back and forwards before looking down. She knew this was pulling at James' heartstrings and she did it just a little bit more before letting it go.

"Do you want to hold him?"

"Sure" She watched as he picked Harry up. She'd need to find a way to get Harry away from him so she could teach him the dark arts. When he was older, of course- but James would let Harry become lazy with magic- he'd grow up not appreciating it or its marvels. Such children Lily found disgusting. To not teach a child to realise that magic was a marvel- that it was a gift that was given and taken away was the greatest disservice Lily thought she could think a magical parent could do.

James would do that to Harry the same way James' parents did to him. Lily would never allow it. In some ways Lily saw James as the worse choice in life partner she could have chosen. He was arrogant, a mere child himself, stupid, brash, ridiculous, extravagant and irresponsible. In others she saw his worth. He was a light wizard, with natural ties to the light side, he was magically powerful wether he used it or not, he was mouldable, impressionable, had a long heritage in magic that could doubtfully be traced to either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff and he was filthy rich.

The most important of these was the heritage. If Lily could make her Harry stand out in the world she would, and he would stand out like a beacon as a pureblood aristocrat she would have liked to be. The door opened again to admit a smiling Helena who bared gifts of several colours and varieties. Among these was what Lily instantly recognised as Honeydukes finest Chocolates.

"Lily!" She placed her burdens on the bedside table before giving her a firm hug and kissing her on the cheek. "How'd it go?"

"Fairly well from what I remember, there was a lot of blood loss though, that's why we're here"

"Oh, really? Are you feeling alright? Those blood replenishing potions suck…."

"It wasn't Lily who lost all the blood- it was Harry here"

"Hello James" She said stiffly before sitting next to Lily, ignoring James almost completely. "Is he alright?" James just pretended he didn't exist and sat in the corner on the chair provided for visitors.

"The tyke has got his fathers' resilience, he's fine. They didn't find out why it happened though"

"Well thank goodness he inherited something useful from his father's side." Lily laughed while James laughed half heartedly. That was just how you took Helena when you weren't her closest friend. Laugh it off like a bad joke and pretend it wasn't offensive. Helena could turn like lightning if you stood up for yourself. It was her Slytherin streak- Lily often explained. "It must be a magical birth. I've heard of Muggleborn witches beginning their own personal line peculiarities. You never know, you might have done just that. You're that magically talented"

"Pish posh, I hope it was just that and not something serious. He'll be a talented little boy if you're right"

"Ooh! Did they test him?"

"Standard procedure" James spoke up as he looked into Harry's big green eyes. "They already found Metamorphmagi and Animagi"

"Really! Lilly, have you thought about what sort of things you'll test him for?" Helena ignored James yet again in favour of talking to Lily. James ignored her too- they'd never gotten along very well except for that one time behind Hagrid's Hut.

"Everything, I want to make sure a hundred and thirty five percent that we know everything." Lily's own dark plans began to flitter across her mind. James was in the room and thus it was best not to say them out loud, but she planed to try several dark rituals on Harry that had to be done before he reached three. Helena wasn't the best person to tell either because of her reporter husband. Well- the man wasn't really a reporter anymore. He'd come into a hefty inheritance and had decided to start his own paper- The Quibbler- what a silly name.

"Good, I'd get them out of the way as soon as possible if I were you. It's all hush, hush within my family but we accidentally left my great Aunt right up until Hogwarts and she had an entire list of about fifteen abilities. Of course by that time 14 of them were unusable and she only had a week magical sight. It was such a waste."

"You're Great Aunt Nettler?" James spoke up with a smug smile on his face. Oh no, Lily thought. This was the worst part about being within the magical pureblood circles. Everyone knew every little fact about all the other families. Feuds lit like wild fire between some families regularly.

"Yes Lily, my Great Aunt Nettler" She shot James a warning glare. James was a Gryffindor and so it didn't get through his thick skull to shut up.

"Isn't she that Hag who lives out in the Orkney Islands with her sugar Daddy? What is she- Seventy nine or so and she's going out with some loaded hundred and thirty year old?"

"How dare you! And she's ninety-five while he's barely a hundred and ten. How dare you say that about my family when your father went and got himself splinched 'because he tried to apparate in the middle of sex with some hooker!"

"Shut up!"

"Will you both shut up! There's a baby in this room. Now if you two are going to get into a duel James, give me Harry and get OUT!" That quietened both of them. Lily began to tie up her Charms closer to herself mentally to make them both think it was their fault and not hers that she'd yelled at them. It visibly worked instantly on James' face while it took a while before Helena submitted to the charms effect.

"Sorry about that, Lily- I forgot about him"

"Sorry Lil's"

"It's ok, just no shouting while Harry can hear you"

"Yes Lil's

"Yes Lily" Lily almost felt bad for doing this to the woman she'd come to know as her closest friend and her 'husband'. And then she remembered when Helena had spat on her shoe and James had hexed her hair. It became a lot easier to charm them into liking her when she saw those memories in her mind's eye.

"So, what were we talking about? Oh yes! I'll make sure to test him for everything I can think of. If you can think up something or even recommend a book that would be helpful"

"Oh! I have just the book at home. It's got some great spells I thought I'd tweak and see what I could do with them" It was things like these which made Lily like Helena even though she'd been such a horrible bitch during their first few years together. Helena was a brilliant witch who had an un-erring ability to play with spells to get the most outrageous and spectacular effects. She'd once turned a Levitation spell into a piano playing spell for a few of her friends benefit one evening in her home. It'd been wonderful to watch even if it did sound horribly out of key.

"What do they test for?"

"A few of the rarer abilities for sure, umm- there was one which determined wether or not a child could be a Gensmagus. If he turns out to be one I'd love to spend a while babysitting."

"Gensmagus, they died out didn't they, along with the older species?"

"Oh sure. But with abilities you never know if it's just going to pop up."

"What's a Gensmagus?" James asked with a blank face.

"Someone who can cross species by will. Something like being an Animagus/Metamorphmagus of all of the sentient magical creatures. There's also the ability to actually use their magic which is interesting."

"The amount of magic someone could learn…" James gasped.

"That's why I'd like to baby-sit him. Who knows what sort of abilities he might show."

"Lets not get ahead of ourselves, ok- it's not happening anyway- but if you can find that book and any others I'd be grateful. James- your family would have some of those books in their library- right?"

"Oh yeah, of course we do. It's all in the manor"

"I'll have to have a look through it"

"I can for you if you want"

"Thanks, it'd be a time saver- what with the Harry and all. Helena- could you ask Narcissa if she has any?"

"Sure thing."

"I can ask Sirius, his family library's bigger than mine."

"They let the disgrace into their home?"

"No- but they can't lock him out because he's still heir and even their rat of a House Elf has to sleep"

"Breaking and entering is illegal"

"Only if you get caught and he's going to own it all so it doesn't matter what he takes"

"What about Regulus?"

"A moron and he's the second brother- he has no legal rights but Sirius will give him something cushy anyway. I think as far as Sirius is concerned he wants to just burn the house down when he gets it"

"Of course he would. Who cares that it's been in that family since the 16th century- we'll just burn it down with who knows how many family artefacts can burn with them. If Regulus has any sort of brains he'll kill Sirius and take the family assets"

"Regulus is a moron with as little backbone as the rest of his slimy house"

"The mother of your son was in Slytherin and if I were you I'd shut up before I rip your spine out from your ass. We'll see who's spineless when I'm hanging yours up from Gryffindor tower" Lily jerked at James' charm, making him flinch and squeak to Helena's delight.

"And if you really must know the serpent only has back bones- there's not much more to them."

"Yes well, all I meant was that Regulus is a spineless twit and couldn't kill him if he snapped Sirius' wand"

"So- Helena- you were talking about Narcissa- how was she when you saw her last?"

"Good, good- you know she's had Draco- the boy is a pain and looks the spitting image of Lucius- poor thing. I swear, the Malfoy line all look like bloody clones"

"It's because they'll only marry with other blond people. Even through the lower families they've always been known to take a blond witch"

"True" Lily agreed with James before Helena could somehow be offended. It was the great problem with trying to maintain two of them. James was so moral and damn light while Helena was defensive and cutting.

"She sends her love, of course- and she didn't say anything but I know that Lucius' has been hitting her. There was a bruise on her forearm!"

"No- and she doesn't just curse him!"

"Well she can't- she has no real power in the relationship. She's just a pretty broodmare to him."

"Has Narcissa tested her little boy?"

"Lucius did it and wouldn't tell her. She's been frantic ever since, worried about what it could be. You know how some children become allergic with certain abilities. She's been trying to test him but apparently Lucius has been keeping her watched. Ooh! Mr. Black died yesterday. She wrote me. Now Mrs. Black is the only one who can cancel the contract and she doesn't look to be willing to lose all that money."

"Poor Cissi. She never had a chance. Maybe Sirius would if he was Lord Black. Well- they said that they were going to look through the family tapestry to see who they could give the Lordship to after Mrs. Black dies other than Sirius. Apparently Cissa's been invited to that much. Who knows- maybe little Draco will be the next in line. Then when he grows up she can beg him. It'll probably be Regulus"

"I hope whoever it is releases Cissi- it's just not fair to keep her locked up like that"

* * *

Lily Potter walked quickly through the, for once, quiet Diagon Alley. It was starting to get dark and in such times of danger no one wanted to be caught out after sunset. Normally Lily would have enjoyed the stillness, would have savoured the Wizarding world's tastes and feels when such cretins as the Wizarding public were gone. But normally Lily didn't have a bundle of precious baby in her arms as she practiced her darker nature. In fact she was not here for pleasure or her darker side- she was here strictly on business; business with the Goblins. 

Harry watched all of this with apprehension. He was barely 'two weeks old' and his mother had brought him here at night? It didn't sound like a very smart thing to do, even for a dark witch he knew his mother was. But there wasn't much he could very well do- now was there? 'Oh, will you please take me home mother?' was not something a normal newborn was meant to say. Not that Harry could say anything thanks to his thrice damned vocal cords and mouth. He was simply too young to form the words.

Passing the Goblin Guard, Lily reached the doors to the bank and looked away from the inscription on them. She knew it was Goblin magic and simply reading it placed a tracker on her within the bank. She hadn't known it her first few times here but when she found a Goblin tracking spell on her she'd soon known why.

"Never read the message on the doors to Gringotts. The magic within is not kind to strangers." Lily whispered from memory quietly enough that the guard didn't hear. It was in an old textbook she'd taken from the restricted section of Hogwarts in her younger days. It talked about Goblin magic's and how to defend and attack with them. Such magic was dangerous to any student who practiced it- but Lily knew her risks and her limits, even by then she had known.

Harry heard this and for a moment was shocked, not that his baby face showed it. Goblin magic could be imbued into a phrase, a written English phrase? Harry, with his years of experience in many different types of human magic- had never heard of anyone giving English magical powers beyond a mild sort of command magic. Goblin magic could be useful if he ever found a way to practice it. Harry noted this for future use.

Lily continued into the main Hall of Gringotts, noting how few Goblins there were. The bank was open all hours, though it was rare for human's to use the bank after dark. Lily knew of several Vampires which held old accounts and occasionally withdrew money, but they obviously couldn't just pop up in the middle of the day- now could they? She walked up to one of the counters and waited for the Goblin to look up and give her some attention.

"Yes?"

"I'm here to speak to the Goblin in charge of inheritances? I was told I was to meet him when it was most convenient for my son and me." The Goblin looked down on Lily for a moment before turning his attention elsewhere- presumably to papers on his desk behind the counter. He replied without even looking up again.

"Mr. Grindstone has left for the night, please come back in the morning"

"Then you will fire call him before I start getting agitated and advise my husband to remove his business from Gringotts. As Lord Potter that is his right" The Goblin all but jumped out of seat to hear that.

"Mrs. Potter! Right away, Madam!" He scrambled out of the hall, presumably to make a fire call. Lily smiled to herself. Pulling out her wand she conjured a seat for herself and sat down to wait for Mr. Grindstone to arrive. It didn't take long. A very sooty and very anxious looking Goblin followed behind the rude Goblin who had served her.

"Mrs. Potter, I am sorry for the inconvenience, please follow me" Harry was beginning to think his mother was insane- no one talked to Goblins like that and she was being incredibly rude. Unfortunately because of the way the blanket was positioned and the angle he was facing, all Harry could see was the roof- so he missed the sooty Goblin and his anxious expression.

"Thankyou" She stood up, dismissing the chair with a flick of her wand, before continuing after the Goblin. He was walking fast- but his short legs were no match for her longer ones so she kept up easily.

"You can understand how I would be surprised to hear from you at this hour of the night, especially in these times, Mrs. Potter"

"I chose not to involve my husband in this affair, for I was unsure in exactly what it is that I was summoned here. He is currently in a Quidditch practice so this was the best timing."

"Of course, Madam. He was not required for this meeting." They reached the door and he opened it for Lily. She walked past him into the dingy office. "Please have a seat"

"Thankyou"

"Now, the letter I sent to you was addressed to yourself and your son. Do you have any idea why the Head of Inheritance would contact your son and yourself?"

"I presumed he had inherited something from one of James' family members recently deceased" Lily stayed calm and collected as she'd learnt was necessary. Goblins, by their very nature, despised emotional or suggestive people. Arguably they handled rude people the best but people who showed some sort of weakness only insulted and aggravated them. This stemmed from their desire as a community for profit.

"You are incorrect in your presumption. It came to the Goblin Inheritance office's attention that your son currently owns Potter estate" Lily was shocked. That was a family holding passed from Lord to Lord. There wasn't meant to be any way of taking it away from Lord Potter- legally or magically.

"Excuse me" Lily had to strain to fight her emotional retort. Logic eventually won and she replied with her most calm and controlled voice. Harry was equally shocked, but no one thought to look at the baby's face to see.

"That was our first clue. At the time of his birth, Harry Potter inherited all of his father's rights and wealth- making him Lord Potter. When someone is Lorded it is our duty as inheritance officers, to check through all of the other estates that Lord owns to see if he has in fact inherited more. The fact is that Lord of House Potter was not the only Lordship he inherited. Inexplicably, he is also Lord of House Black and Wyatt. We did not contact you immediately because at first we thought our wards and charms had somehow failed, but apparently they have not."

"And this is all legal?"

"There is nothing that can be done legally to revoke it, if that's what you mean. It is not, legally, supposed to be possible for a Lord of any magical kind to lose his Lordship through anything short of death. By rights, James Potter should he dead in order for your son to receive anything. The only connection we can make between House Black and your son is that Sirius Black is his Godfather. Technically speaking- if Sirius were to become Lord and then die without any children of his own, Regulus Black were dead already and the young Mister Malfoy were dead then Harry would be Lord Black- but as it stands all three of them are alive. Such a thing has never happened in my time here, and we have found only two recorded cases previous to this."

"And they were?"

"In both of those cases it turned out that the people in line before the Lord were bastards. We know for a fact that that is not true in Sirius or Regulus Black's cases or the young Mister Malfoy's case."

"You mentioned a third House, what of it?"

"House Wyatt is a more mysterious case. The Vault has been inactive since the 1960's when it's last major transaction was to buy a house and deposit several artefacts. We assumed these were family heirlooms or something of the like. I've had five Goblins working for the past five days straight looking through the family genealogy and we've found only a few small clues. It seems that the family line in fact goes back past written record, but not under that name. There is a clear and consistent connection to House Luther and if the rumours are true even Fey."

"House Luther? The House Luther which turned into House Gaunt?" Lily remembered her time in Slytherin well. She remembered the stories better. The Nobel House of Slytherin became House of Luther after Slytherin lost his argument with Gryffindor. The line continued for generation after generation until only an heiress was left. She married and House Luther, with its prestige and power became House Gaunt- with nothing. The entire line was destitute.

"The one in the same, the last magical heiress of Luther married twice."

"Nimea Luther"

"Once in the Muggle world without magical binding and once in the magical with bindings stronger than we have now"

"Wait, she married in the Muggle world? To this Wyatt?"

"No- to Marlock Gaunt, a Muggle- the line of Gaunt is cursed with bastards…"

"-while the line of Wyatt is not; sweet Merlin, where did you get this information?"

"We gathered it through several books dedicated to Wizard ancestry that the Goblins have kept since before Hogwarts was founded." The Goblin was giving Lily a dirty look which reminded her she was being emotional. She quickly put a stop to it and began to work on her composure. Harry's tiny baby jaw had dropped a while ago and Lily's restless movement served to close it. He couldn't believe his ears.

"And what exactly does this have to do with us?" Lily ground out with half fake hostility. Almost instantly the Goblin became more comfortable.

"Quite a bit. Tell me, Mrs Potter- what is your experience with snakes?"

"Not much, I keep away from them and they keep away from me mostly. My father told me I was bitten by a snake when I was five so I try to keep away from them"

"Jason Evans, the Muggle?"

"Yes, my father is a Muggle- I don't see how that has to do with anything! Now what is Harry's connection to House Wyatt?"

"Well, you should spend more time around snakes. It came to our attention by a fluke that the last transactions, minor though they were, were to pay a Muggle Butler for the Wyatt home in Surrey."

"Surrey?" Lily gulped; her father had been a butler right up until his death in her third year.

"Yes, and did you know, perhaps, what the name of the Butler was?"

"No, of course I don't."

"Jason Evans. In the small family which lived in the small mansion that your father worked in- was a baby girl. In fact she was born after the first fire which killed off her extended family. Her name was Lilianth Wyatt."

"No. It's not true…"

"Yes it is; you are the last Heiress of the Wyatt line which makes your son the Lord magically. Technically you should be dead before he gains any sort of Lordship, though. Fortunately for you he doesn't need that"

"Why was I not told immediately! Why was I not informed that I was the last Heiress of the Line of Wyatt!" Lily roared in fury. Harry himself felt the overwhelming urge to hurt someone. He was WHAT! Heir of Slytherin! Lord Wyatt! Harry cried, as he had not cried before and threw his magic out angrily. Though he didn't see it, several drawers of files exploded excitedly. Lily realised that Harry was upset and began to try to sooth him, sending angry glares at the snivelling Goblin who was running around, picking up papers frantically.

"Come on Harry, mummy didn't mean to yell. Mummy's sorry. Calm down honey. Everything's fine." Harry continued to cry despite his mothers affirmations that everything was fine. "Come on Harry, calm down honey, calm down, mummy's sorry." For a moment Lily began to think of the implications of being Slytherin's heir. In several books throughout her dark research there were references to Parselmagic, the magic cast through the tongue of serpents. The references alone were awe inspiring. Herpo the Foul had created the basilisk with its aid and the Egyptian priests had cut down countless enemies with its power.

Harry himself was beginning to go through the implications in his head. What did this make him? To be of a founders blood was a feat by itself- but to be Slytherin's blood was enormous. Luther, Gaunt, Wyatt, Black, Potter? The first three names Harry didn't really understand as his interest had lied within himself- not in the historical families or their importance. Wyatt did sound familiar though and he did remember his birth- it had come up a few times. Harry began to calm down as his mothers voice took on a more subtly soothing tone.

"Why was I not made the Lady Wyatt?"

"Becoming a Lord or Lady requires that you seek it out to a degree. It can be forced but for the Wyatt family that is not a possibility as no one is alive to force you. You were also the youngest daughter of the Line and therefore you didn't have the oldest child magic from birth. It was made more difficult for your Muggle upbringing. To be honest if a Wizard or Witch can't be found within a year or two, especially an infant, it's assumed that they are dead."

"What is the state of our family vault and estates?"

"An excellent question- you have experience with inheritance?" Lily all but growled at the Goblin as she nodded, spurring him to answer quickly "The vaults are in perfect condition with your estates in a ruin. The family's main estate was burnt to the ground and the several other estates that your family own have since been rented out and have fallen mostly into disrepair. Your father, Aaron Wyatt, was the Lord before your son. He managed the family's affairs expertly as the Wyatt Lords before him had but he chose to rent out the estates rather than leave them to collect dust. Unfortunately, after his death no one was left to collect rent and several of your estates have been run over completely."

"I see. And the ministry has had no access to the vault?"

"Yes, though they had began counting down for the liquidation of assets."

"Good. Be sure to inform them that a Lord Wyatt has been found. They aren't to know of Harry's inheritance or allowed to drain it away from him."

"Yes, Madam. While we were looking through the Black estates we were contacted by Mrs. Black who has requested to know who her Lord Black is. She does have the right to know but we were able to use certain loopholes which allow for the Lord to remain anonymous until we are finished our investigation."

"Well, my Harry can meet with them. The Clause of Secrecy works within House Black, correct?"

"Yes"

"As his Mother, I want full guardianship of the Wyatt vaults and James should have full guardianship of the Potter vaults. Until Harry can make his own decisions we should be in charge, correct?"

"Yes, as his parents you are given those rights- though Lordship doesn't usually take place until the child in question reaches their 16th birthday."

"Good."

"Good"

"I wish to see the vaults and look through anything there. Now would be best"

* * *

Lily sat in front of the fireplace, trying to make the best impression of a wife with grave news to tell. James would not take this well, no matter what she did- but easing it to the most comfortable settings would be best. To be honest- she had wonderful news, but she hardly thought James would see it that way. After all- he was losing most of his control of the Potter accounts to his son. 

The fireplace roared and James' figure came tumbling out; landing in an undignified heap. James couldn't travel the floo like a normal person if his life depended on it; it only served to annoy Lily more.

"Honey, I'm home!"

"Honey, I'm here- no need to shout. How was practice?"

"Alright, Malcolm ended up diving right into the pitch chasing the snitch. Apparently it was enchanted by our enemies, the Harpies of course, to drop to the ground like a stone after a few hours of…." Lily automatically tuned out. It was an automatic reaction from their honeymoon.

James had literally spent their honeymoon talking his head off about Quidditch and watching various games. Lily had expected he'd be more interested in her, as it was their honeymoon, but to no avail- he'd blathered on and on, and on and on, and on and on and on about Quidditch and who was bound to win that years' Quidditch World Cup. Eventually she silenced him and went to sleep, discouraged though she had been. Eventually, brought out of her day dream by James' sudden recounting of the history of Quidditch and how it was obvious that the Harpies shouldn't be allowed to play, Lily reminded herself that no- James would not lose his steam any time soon and suitably interrupted.

"Darling"

"Yes Darling?"

"I have some strange news from Gringotts. I don't know how to explain it- so just read this." She handed James a carefully constructed letter she'd had Mr. Grindstone write and seal under the Gringotts Seal. James read it quickly before his eyebrows rose to his hairline.

"What the… Harry is Lord Potter. Our Harry is Lord Potter! But I'm Lord Potter!"

"I know darling, I know"

"And what's this about being Lord Black? He's not related to the Black's at all. Potters and Blacks haven't married since the 17th century. We're as far away from the Black's as it's possible to be in the Wizarding world!"

"It astonished me too, dear" Lily wanted to tell him that was stupid, but she didn't think he'd react very well, even with the charm, if she said: 'you're being stupid, all of the Wizarding world are third cousins at least, you great big prat! Stop whining and live with the fact that your son is more powerful than you are'. James was predictable like that.

"Harry, a Twice Blessed Lord. He's a rarity alright. He's going to need a marriage licence or two, to stop any sort of feuding" Lily hadn't seen that coming. She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She'd been more focused on the money and her own family line to even consider Harry's possible status. Lily wanted to slap James in the face for even considering a Marriage licence.

Marriage licences were the most piggish and chauvinistic things rich Wizards had made to allow a male the right to sleep around without the bastards. Reigning in her temper she pulled a tight hold on her magical connections to James including: her charm, the marriage magic and a few darker obedience charms. With these safely in hand she began to layer her words with all of them.

"I think it'd be best if we didn't give Harry a Marriage Licence"

"It's necessary in his case. He'll need two wives at least, one for each line. The Black's would be offended if we didn't. He's already of Potter blood, but the Black family line needs to have Black blood in it. It could change the line impossibly otherwise" Lily gave her magic's a tight tug in James' direction.

"I think it would be best if we didn't give Harry a Marriage Licence" This time the words came out like siren song to James' ears while in Lily's they were hard, brutal and metallic tones. Like all males, James' eyes turned glazed at the sirens whisper and he began to nod frantically.

"Yes, dear yes. Harry shouldn't have a Marriage contract. It was a bad idea. I too think that it would be best if we didn't give Harry a Marriage Licence"

"There's a good boy"

"Yes, Honey" Lily was only slightly disturbed by this reaction to her own power. It'd hurt her deep down when she'd first done it- but now she felt little more than disgust when he turned to putty in her hands. Who that disgust was aimed at was ambiguous. "So the Black and Potter lines will merge. Good idea honey" Lily felt defeated.

She knew that the only circumstance that lines merged were if there were few to no living descendants of one line and if the last was a female. This really didn't count. Harry still had cousins, third though they were, who held the Potter name somewhere out there in Ireland and he was a boy. If Harry were to take a Black wife and then merge the lines of Black and Potter that would leave Mrs. Black, Regulus Black and Sirius Black all stranded with names which didn't match their Lord. In her heart Lily knew those lines couldn't merge rationally as they stood.

And then there was Wyatt. She didn't want James to know her son was the heir of Slytherin, no matter the circumstances and so she'd carefully made sure that the letter excluded details about Wyatt and didn't specifically say that Black and Potter were the only lines Harry was Lord of. It could, she rationalised, be merged but did she want it to? With Potter line it would simply be too light a family and with Black it would be too dark. It stood as a balanced family- one who understood its roots in darkness and still overcame them. To ruin that balance by letting it deny or be plunged into darkness or light was a travesty she couldn't commit.

But if she couldn't let them merge into one line then what was there to do- Marriage Licences? No- she would never have a son who could do that, she would never acknowledge a son who had that little respect for his wife. There had to be another choice. She had to find it.

* * *

"And he's our Lord now?" Mrs. Black spoke in a sort of dazed calm. 

"By magic, yes Mrs. Black" The entire Black family; including Cousins, Uncles, Aunts, Fathers, Mothers, Siblings and estranged kin alike; was huddled in the rather too small reception hall. Not to say that the hall was small- no the family tree was just spectacularly large. Anyone who married into or was born into the family Black was required to be there. Most notorious of these were the three Black sisters, cousins to the direct line, Andromeda Tonks, Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange.

But there were three exceptions. Three beings in the room were not born into the family Black. One was a Goblin, one who had dealt with the Black line for quite some time as their account manager. One was a Muggleborn witch and one was her Lord born son. The three beings in question were all being stared at in utter disbelief. Some were veiled and guarded with their disbelief while most were not and an even smaller number were rather vocal about it.

"What!" Bellatrix Lestrange had never been particularly smart. "That Muggleborn whore's filthy half breed son, our Lord? I would sooner die!"

"Hold your tongue, child" Her father was quick to grab her shoulder and haul, literally, his daughter to her seat. Orion Black had survived his tenure as a Black not by questioning his previous three Lords but by obeying them. One of his brothers had not, both been obedient and survived his tenure as a Black. Delphi Black was never mentioned within the family. "Surely there is some mistake?"

"There can be no mistake. This child was born with the rights to the Black estate and the mystical powers surrounding. He is also, as we've since determined, an heir to the Black legacy." Disbelief turned to shock in many people's eyes as the Goblin, Goldfarb, stated these words clearly.

"Nonsense! The Black flame hasn't been seen in centuries! Let alone in this whelp!" It was Mrs. Black, former lady of the house, who spoke this time in outrage.

"I assure you, Mrs. Black- it is true. He has not manifested it yet, due to his minute age- but it's a strong gift and it's there. We had our curse breakers check." The thing sneered at Mrs. Black for her emotional tirade.

"Thankyou Goldfarb" Lily nodded to the Goblin briskly in a sort of dismissal before her sharp eyes turned on the gathered cluster of family members. "Wether you like it or not my son, Harold Potter, is the Lord Black and Potter. So get over it."

"You have no place here, Muggleborn wench"

"Get out!"

"You have no right to talk to us like that!"

"This is a meeting between our lord and Black's children- you are neither so leave" Mrs. Black's icy tone swept the room with the approval of several others in it.

"As the guardian of the Lord I am able to be here until he can tell me not to."

"Lily, you need to get out of here. Aunty Aprus is right- you aren't a Black…" Lily's cold emerald eyes burnt into Narcissa's pleading ones. She tugged on Narcissa's charm but it was to no avail- there was no clear effect. Confused she pulled again to see tears in the other witches eyes. Lily nodded in understanding; Narcissa was doing it because she loved Lily, she couldn't use her charm to overcome it unfortunately.

It was a little surprise Lily had found out about straight after she'd told James she was pregnant. He was convinced that they needed to move back into Potter Mansion to raise the Potter heir properly. She had been happy with their flat that she'd bought and had tried to pull him out of it. It hadn't worked and now they lived in the cold old mansion. Eventually she'd worked out the flaw she'd left in the magical patterns of the Charm.

It was simply that the spell had to be cast on people who didn't like you, as was the purpose of the charm. So if at any time they felt true love towards her, Lily, she would be reduced to her own non-magical charms to convince them to do things. It was disappointing but as of yet she hadn't found a way to work around it.

"Fine, I will leave the room, but not before I make a lasting clause on the house of Black. The Clause of secrecy" Before anyone could stop her she took baby Harry's hand and made a precise cut with her wand in his palm followed by a numbing charm. "On this blood, as his guardian, I- Lily Potter- vow the House of Black to, which he is Lord and heir, to secrecy. None but he may communicate the secret words that he is Lord of House Black or any other information pertaining to him. You are bound by your magic to obey. Let it be so!" There was a sudden outcry from the majority of the room as all of their collective magic was bound to the vow of secrecy.

"You bitch!"

"Unbind us immediately you Mudblood whore!" and similar other insults/demands sounded out through the room.

"I leave as the Guardians of House Black, Sirius Black- as the Godfather of the Lord- and Narcissa Malfoy- as a Godmother of the Lord. It is done. Now- if you're quite done calling me names, I leave this meeting to the control of Narcissa and Sirius. I expect you to both act in Harry's best interests. Goldfarb, House Black- good day" And she left the room while a stunned Sirius and Narcissa stared after her and a boiling, rage filled, Bellatrix Lestrange screamed insults at her back.

* * *

Bellatrix hurried into the dark damp room. She'd been summoned by her Dark Lord after the family Black meeting and she expected the worse. She knew lying to Him got people killed and if she told him the truth she became a Squib, a Mudblood a true Blood Traitor. It was a simple choice between her magic and her loyalty to her Lord. She didn't know which she would choose honestly. But she did know what her Lord did to Squibs and liars. 

"Bellatrix my dear. How are you?"

"Exalted as always in your presence, my Lord" She bowed, her nose touching the floor as she'd been taught to do. She stayed in that position, as agonising as it was.

"Good, good, and how did the meeting with Lord Black go? I hope your news is more detailed than that of the Goblins." Bellatrix bit her lip.

"I am bound, my Lord." She was ashamed to say the words but she knew he would realise her predicament. He was harsh and cruel but he cared for her. He loved her and loved her alone.

"Continue, my faithful Bella" Voices shot through her mind, telling her to spill her secrets, ripping apart what she knew to be her sanity and taring her apart from the inside. They told her to be loyal, told her that she must obey. _He is your lord, he is your god_.

"I am bound, my Lord" She heard shuffling before the voices in her head exploded. He was righteousness and greatness and she was nothing without him. Insanity engulfed her conscious mind and she was sent adrift in a sea of endless pleasure and sadistic torture. He was her God and she was nothing but if she obeyed him.

Making her decision in that moment of insanity her head shot up wildly and a mad gleam took over her eyes. This, this would make her His greatest servant- the only one to give up her very magic; her very nature for Him. She would be better than all of them who followed with their mouths and not their souls. She would be his best servant, his Queen amongst pawns.

"The Potter Brat, my Lord- he is Lord Black! The Lord of the Most Noble and Pure House of Black is a Potter! He was born to it my Lord- the filth was born to it." For a moment Bellatrix felt nothing, and in that moment she thought the binding hadn't worked. Perhaps the filthy Mudblood didn't have the power or she'd misspoken the sacred words of old binding? No- she hadn't and Bella knew that- even in her temporary insanity.

Bellatrix screamed and fell heavily, her face cracking on stone. She turned over, writhing in pain as her blood boiled. Lacerations cut deep into the skin on her fore arms as blood poured out and some unseen force took its justice on her countenance. Her hair greyed and became shaggy where it had once been luxurious and her face thinned as her body shuddered involuntarily. Her magic began to pool in the pit of her stomach, burning her with its scalding heat.

It spoke to her as it was ripped from her body. It told her she was wrong. It told her she had always been wrong and had never made a right decision in her life. It told her she had no right to it, that she was a blood traitor and that every moment of her life was cursed from this moment on- and that it would be a long life. She wept as it left her, escaping in a violent burst of violet light. Her own blood turned to mud in her veins and she knew that she was the Mudblood- not Lily Potter. How she knew these things she did not know, only that she did know them and they were true.

She wept as the void refused to fill, as the emptiness became all encompassing with no end in sight. She felt cold and sluggish and fresh blood caked her fallen, scarred, disfigured and burnt body. She rejected the magic's parting words. No- she had made the right decision. Her sacrifice was justified and she deserved better than this. Pleading, dead, violet eyes turned to her master.

"Good Bella. Good work. Stimpson!" A man appeared from the darkness around the room. "Take Bella and clean her up. After you clean her up take her to Michellin in the infirmary and tell her to put the Squib out of her misery. Discreetly" In Bellatrix's state of mind she realised she had made a mistake. Her Lord would treat her as a squib. She must escape.

The Dark Lord sat in his throne with a smile. Torturing his followers was fun but to watch their magic leaving them was something new to him. He'd found the show enjoyable if disappointing. Presumably the magic would dissipate into the air now and be wasted. Perhaps there was some way to collect the magic, he wondered? Obtaining other people's magic would be a worthwhile endeavour he should look into. He'd have the Crouch boy look into it for him.

For now he had to find out what to do about this Potter Brat. From what he knew of this Prophesy it pitted him against one of three children he'd been able to find. He'd already killed the Muggleborn one discreetly which left two possible children, a Longbottom and a Potter- both seemed somewhat ridiculous to the Master Manipulator.

Alice and Frank Longbottom, while renowned for their power and Auror ability had never actually killed anyone and had barely survived their trounces against Him. However Alice was somewhat awkwardly linked to the Smith and therefore Hufflepuff lines and Frank was a staunch Gryffindor, though with no blood connection. Sure they were decently matched against the Death Eaters but they had nothing on him.

James and Lily Potter, also both renowned in their chosen professions as a Charms expert and a Quidditch Star were little better. James was a bloody celebrity for Merlin's sake! What sort of a challenge was that! Lily was more of an unknown outside of test scores compared to her husband. He did respect the fact that she was a Slytherin- but she should be following him, not fighting him. But fight they had and survived all three times. They weren't out of the picture yet, unfortunately. If luck was with him he'd already annihilated the real one and the rest of this was just clean up stuff.

Deciding that nothing could be done for the time being and that he was in need for a stiff drink, the Dark Lord apparate out of his headquarters.

* * *

**Meanwhile, Potter Mansion**

Baby Harry was asleep as his mother was carefully bleeding herself into a chalice cup, reciting words she'd recently memorised in a tongue she'd recently mastered.

'**Blood of the Mother,**

**Milk of the Wolf,**

**Love of the Father,**

**And Breath of the Earth,**

**Protects you, nourishes you, watches and keeps you**'

The words were spoken in hissing undertones, soothing Harry through sleep while making him glow softly green. Flicking her wand toward her wrist and cutting off the blood flow- Lily took a paintbrush and began painting the air above Harry silently leaving glowing green and red marks hanging above him.

'**Harry, my love, Othalo holds you, it keeps your feet on the ground- your root,**

**Harry, my love, Perthro reveals you, it makes you feel freely and willingly- your sacral core,**

**Harry, my love, Ehwaz asserts you, it makes you claim what is yours- your navel centre,**

**Harry, my love, Algiz guards you, it protects your heart of hearts and those who can hold it- your heart,**

**Harry, my love, Dagaz speaks for you, it expresses your heart and feelings- your Throat Charka,**

**Harry, my love, Sowilo gives you insight, it gives you visions and intuition- your third eye,**

**Harry, my love, Tiwaz gives you wisdom, it lets you feel your spirituality and gives wise council."**

Lily, her spell done, watched as the green and the red mixed and swirled for a moment. She had to watch over him now; outside interference wouldn't go well with the spell. If everything went to plan then Harry should be a more balanced, healthy child and person. The spell allowed for the opening of the centre points of magic within Harry's tiny body. As long as they flowed openly his magic would regenerate and produce at an advanced rate, however for this to work it would make him slightly weaker defensively for but a day. For that day his magic was over pliable and open to suggestion. That was why the spell was dark but as far as Lily was concerned more magic was better, despite the risks.

But Lily should have guessed that with her baby boy Harry- nothing went to plan and he always broke the rules, wether he planned to or not. In a flash of violet light, Bellatrix Lestrange's magic entered the sleeping baby boy Harry Potter and assimilated itself to the magic of the Lord Black, reinforcing and sustaining him as it was directed to by the binding which had connected Bellatrix to Harry. Lily was frantic as with her own red magic and Harry's green magic, violet magic coursed and rippled through out his body in what appeared a painful process of assimilation.

* * *

**A half an hour before, Dreamscape**

Harry sat on the edge of a waterfall, the cold spray tickling his nose. Getting up he turned and began to walk upstream against the current with little to no apparent strain. Harry didn't find this strange at all, though he would had he been awake at the time. The ground beneath his feet began to dry and the river turned to hard dirt, while wind swept his face. Suddenly feeling disorientated Harry realised he was dreaming.

He looked down at himself and saw the clear outline of his body. It was clear and detailed as only his carefully trained Occlumency organisation and photographic memory could allow- but it wasn't as he'd remembered it before he'd fallen asleep. Hadn't he been unable to walk? Even though Harry understood he was asleep he hadn't quite worked out what was happening, like he'd just woken up and he was still drowsy.

Looking up he noticed the hard dirt had changed into a clearing with long grasses. Harry felt even more disorientated. Looking out, the clearing blurred and Harry felt himself begin to wake up. Well- at least he thought he did. He was still in the clearing and it was still disorientating. He didn't want to be so off balance, it might be dangerous- he thought, and if that was what dreaming was doing for him then he'd have to wake up. Trying really hard to wake up- Harry couldn't help but be annoyed to find he was still asleep. Why couldn't he wake up?

His feet began to walk against Harry's intentions. But he was asleep- shouldn't he be in control? Harry tried to stop, but found himself unable to. It was a strange and upsetting feeling. Willing himself all the harder to stop walking, his feet stopped while the clearing past him by at the same pace he had been walking. The feeling of being drawn in was strong as he approached what soon became the edge of the clearing and peered into the deep forest. He stopped at its edge watching in apparent anticipation.

Red eyes stared back. Hungrily they stripped him, leaving nothing to hide behind but his own shame. Harry felt fear, true dark and all consuming fear as those eyes stared at him with a violence and hatred he didn't know or understand in this state. The eyes began to multiply- from two, to four, to eight, to sixteen and they grew larger and larger until the entire forest was red and glowing intense hatred.

Not liking the situation Harry turned around and began to run away. There was deep fear here, fear he wanted nothing to do with. With every step the clearing was leeched of life and its past vibrant greens and became grey and lifeless. Harry just wanted it to end. He wasn't brave and he wasn't ready to face what chased after him- he knew that now, but it didn't matter. Rough hands grabbed him and he began to spin in Darkness as he cried, hot tears streaming down his cold cheeks.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat in his bed, as he'd known it with the Dursley's for the first ten years of his life. He moved out of automatic response to waking up in his Dursley cupboard and opened the door. Sunlight was shining through the windows, telling him he was meant to start the cooking. Harry thought for a second that this was a strange place to find himself but moved to the kitchen to begin his morning chores anyway.

Cooking breakfast was a hard job in his smaller body; the pan was heavy and often scalded his hands while the open flame burnt him from the awkward angle he had to hold utensils at this age. He had to cook, he had to cook the bacon, if he burnt the bacon Uncle Vernon would beat him and he'd be sore all week and he didn't want that. So he had to cook and cook and not burn the bacon or the eggs.

Eventually Harry's mind turned from the task at hand as it often had done when Harry used to day dream. Harry didn't feel any pain as he remembered he should, but at this point he wasn't thinking about what he was doing so much as the 'dream' he'd had last night. He had been awake in the middle of it- hadn't he? It wasn't like the normal dreams he had when he was at the Dursley's.

No- it wasn't at all like the dreams he had at the Dursley's. There weren't any green lights or flying motorcycles, any strange cat woman or old doddering man. In fact- it had been wonderful- he'd remembered being old enough to move away from the Dursley's. Even if he was chased by those evil red lights, it was worth it. But if he had been 'awake' in that dream- then could he still be dreaming? He hoped he was. There was a knock at the front door and Harry dropped the pan on the floor.

As the hot bacon hit the floor it left a hole. Harry was confused and curious- why would there be a hole in the floor? Bacon left grease stains and scalded skin, not holes in the floor. Kneeling down to investigate Harry heard his Aunt screeching from upstairs. She must have heard him drop the pan! He'd be in so much trouble.

Looking for an escape from the kitchen but finding no doors other than the ominous one his Aunt would soon appear from Harry began to open the small opening in the floor until it was big enough for him to crawl through. As his Aunt came through the door he had made it to the other side. He was quick to stand up and run away from the hole to see where he was in case he had to run away from a pan wielding Aunt Petunia.

He was in the same clearing except this time he was pretty sure the trees looked brighter and the grass greener- or at least they did compared to when they were dull and lifeless. Realising that he was still dreaming and that those red eyes were bound to find him here Harry was afraid of what was here more than on the other side of the hole. He turned away from the forest to where the hole had once been only to find it missing and in its place a fuming Lord Voldemort. He looked vague but his pulsing red eyes were obvious and Harry felt he was certainly Voldemort.

"It's the last time you'll escape me Potter!" Harry was suddenly ten times older, about the age he'd been when he'd first died. Focusing on the impending threat of Lord Voldemort Harry realised that before he could move a jet of sickening green light was pouring from the wand suddenly in the older man's hand. What was he to do? Harry was paralysed as a blue hand reached out and held the sickening stream in one hand. There was a laugh as the green ball began to bounce and play in his hands.

"Not on this night, Tom" With a swing reminiscent of what Harry thought to be an American Baseball Pitcher, which was strange and funny to Harry's British sense of humour, the blue arm threw the green light like a Baseball at the Dark Lord.

"No fair! I wanted to play!" Before making a silly pouting face with his serpentine face Lord Voldemort sank to the ground before turning into a screaming mass of ghost. "Ooga Booga!" Voldemort turned into Peeves and began to cackle madly before popping away inexplicably.

"Oh Peeves- you are so silly" Harry found himself saying.

"He is, isn't he? Good riddance."

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?" It was a strange lilting sort of voice that Harry recognised as unaccustomed to speaking English. How he recognised it he didn't know- but it didn't matter where he was.

"I'm Harry?"

"And I'm friend" The… thing was clear in Harry's vision abruptly- blue skin, white wings, legs and arms like a human with elongated limbs and face, smallish. Harry didn't feel shocked or even particularly upset- it was all just there. He wondered if that was natural at all- but that thought was swept away like a handful of dust thrown into the wind.

"Where are we friend?" They stood in what could only be a glen of some sort. It surprised Harry somewhat as he couldn't remember ever being in something similar in reality.

"Run with me Harry" Without another word they were running fast and hard into oblivion. Harry's strides became leaps and his leaps became soaring bounds and finally he was flying. Straight and hard they were flying like bullets through the air into what Harry vaguely recognised as home. Suddenly they were standing in front of a Tree, disjointed and disfigured as it was, which held a soft sort of glow.

"Where are we friend?"

"Home" There was a door on the front of the tree which was crookedly held in place by vines and other forms of plant life. Harry didn't find it awkward or strange at all, though he did realise it should be strange to see. No, another part of him said- deeper and older than he knew- this was as all trees should stand and all homes should be made. This is natural. "Come inside, Harry" And Harry's friend was gone. Harry knew his friend was behind that door- wherever that led. He had to pass that door, he had to see the other side, he had to go home. But soon that peaceful feeling was replaced by one of irrational alarm.

He was needed. Someone on the other side of that door needed him- they were in danger, they needed his help! He had to go, he had to go now, there was no time to think there was no time to react, someone was in danger. Someone who loved him, someone who loved him so much it hurt. He was needed they were in danger!

He reached out to grab a hold of the twisted door knob only to be blinded by violet light before falling into oblivion. And Harry Potter knew no more.

* * *

Bellatrix sat in her custom room inside the Death Eaters Headquarters. She knew she was doomed, but she had a plan in the meantime which at very least would pass the time. Her plans had been made long before her Lord had cast her out- but it would serve the same purpose- an escape from the Death Eater strong hold. The entire inner circle had them, privately invented, secretly prepared for and furtively stashed away within the mind by specially bought off Occlumens. This was a necessity for the inner circle and all those who worked in the service of their Lord, survival of the most prepared. 

You see within the Death Eaters there were several fractions. The inner circle; the specialised Death Eaters, Masters in Arts and such; and then the drones as the higher members called them- these were the three official groups which their Lord acknowledged and used. Within all of these were the family members who were related and the life enemies made anywhere from work to school. Bellatrix herself had several cousins from marriage and her cousin Regulus amongst the Death Eaters. Even beside that- almost every Death Eater was naturally competitive and cruel and any one of them would slit your throat for favour with the Lord.

Though the Dark Lord did not appreciate his servants being killed he could easily replace any one of them for being 'sloppy' and letting themselves be trapped. All the Death Eaters had learnt that lesson early on with the death of Robert Stewart- a half-blood who had been the right hand man of the Dark Lord. Bellatrix herself had been apart of his death and now she might share his fate.

She began to appreciate just how ironic it was. She had been from the purist of all of the British families, practically royalty in certain circles, and now she could share her fate with a half blooded spawn, killed by her own Lord for being useless! Not only that but now she was a blood traitor- a true Mudblood. To betray one's kin was the lowest of all the offences that Wizard kind acknowledged, she was stateless in the eyes of Wizard law- lower than a Muggle, they at least hadn't betrayed their blood like she had.

What had she been thinking, she wondered in a brief moment of sanity. Had she been thinking at all- had her master been pushing her mentally? She knew he could- she'd seen it herself, but that was for the Mudblood's, the blood traitors, the scum of the Earth- not the Death Eaters, surely! She saw, however briefly, that she was wrong, dead wrong. When she betrayed her kin for the Dark Lord he had not cared and he would do it to any one of his followers.

The very thought that he would do that to the purest of Wizards and Witches made her insane with hatred toward her Lord and herself. It put her into action. Walking to the drawer and carefully taking out what appeared to be a magical make-up kit she took a deep breath and walked calmly to the door. She took out what was clearly a potion of some sort and opened the door, covering her mouth as she did it. One broken potion beaker later and everyone who had been in the hall was out for the count. Running down the hall as fast as she could, she made it to a secret passage way she'd found early on when she'd been the Lords lover. It would take her straight down to the Kitchens where two other passage ways awaited her.

Running as fast as she could she fumbled through the make-up kit. There, at the bottom, was a potion which caused disillusion and speed. She quickly uncorked it and swallowed the entire bottle. Storing the case in her robes she ran for the exit of the passage. There were the two paths. One led up to the top level of the house while the other led off the grounds and outside of the apparition/portkey wards. Taking the one off the grounds she ran as fast as the potion allowed, arriving quickly to what she felt as the edge of the wards.

Holding the bag in her hands she spoke the words to activate the portkey.

"Always for you my Lord"

And Bellatrix Lestrange was no longer within the grasp of the Greatest Dark Lord of the Twentieth Century.

Twin Green orbs watched with concern. This wasn't good tiding for the House of Wyatt. The betrayer hadn't anticipated what her survival could do to the world. As it stood things could potentially get very sticky from here. She had to make sure with her superiors what should be done about this. A gentle rustle of leaves were the only signpost that those green eyes had left the damp passage.

* * *

Next Chapter: **Marked as an Equal But So Much More**

And just for the delay have a free Preview:

**Preview:**

**There was a supersonic boom as the House of Black's estate wards reflected the portkeying Mudblood of Bellatrix Lestrange. Unfortunately this meant she was flung through the air and into the Dark forests which surrounded this most secret of Black estates. What would greet her stood to alter the world beyond anything Bellatrix could have ever predicted. Through her treachery she had been given the opportunity to bring about what she had wanted the most, the destruction of the modern Wizarding way of life.**


	8. Marked as an Equal But So Much More

**Disclaimer – **The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

'**Parseltongue**'

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

**Lost Time**

**Chapter 8**

**Marked as an Equal But So Much More**

**(WARNING: This chapter will involve very mild child abuse.)**

* * *

There was a supersonic boom as the House of Black's estate wards reflected the portkeying Mudblood of Bellatrix Lestrange. Unfortunately this meant she was flung through the air and into the Dark forests which surrounded this most secret of Black estates. What would greet her stood to alter the world beyond anything Bellatrix could have ever predicted. Through her treachery she had been given the opportunity to bring about what she had wanted the most, the destruction of the modern Wizarding way of life. 

As her unconscious body fell limply to the ground, deep in the Sole Forests around Black Lodge in Germany, glowing red eyes watched it with deep scowls. Didn't the family Black remember to stay out of this cursed Forest?

* * *

**August 1980**

Severus Snape waited uncomfortably in the office of the most trusted and respected of all Wizards, Albus Dumbledore- the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. As far as he was aware he currently was in need of this job to flee his master, however covertly, in the guise of a double agent. Word had spread to the Death Eaters that the current Potion Master, Slughorn, was going into retirement and his Lord had given the assignment to him to infiltrate Hogwarts. He was suitably nervous.

What Severus didn't know was that inside his vault was a Pensieve which showed memories differently to how he remembered them. In that Pensieve there were several memories of himself in private conference with Lord Voldemort, discussing numerous plans and situations which Voldemort would set up for him to fix. His actions and reactions to certain situations were all neatly planned out in the young potion masters mind.

The fact of the matter was that Voldemort did not know the extent to which Dumbledore could look through memories or what he would do to check his future staff. They both knew that the other possessed such abilities but Voldemort couldn't be sure how far the Headmasters powers went. This, however- was a tried, tested and proven method of deceit used since before written record and there was no way to trace it. It was Severus Snape's best chance at deceit even with his impressive Occlumency skill.

Severus stood up abruptly as the Headmaster entered the room.

"Ah, Mr. Snape- how good it is to see you again." Shaking the sweating hand of Severus Snape, Dumbledore gave him a nice fake and slightly barmy smile. He understood what was happening, as far as he could given his position, and knew that Voldemort would not let this opportunity slip.

"Good day Headmaster"

"Please sit, sit. Of course I had been expecting some sort of application from all of the best Potion masters, but I had imagined you yourself would be otherwise occupied." He sat down in his chair, watching what he regarded as the young man in front of him. He began to mentally prod him to see if any magical defences existed. "Liquorish wand?"

"No thankyou, Headmaster" Finding significant ones already in place, Albus decided to be frank for a moment.

"So, Mr. Snape- would you care to explain the tattoo on your left forearm and why I should let you onto my staff with the atrocious thing?" Severus' flinch was rather telling; he had not expected it to come out this quickly. Idly, Albus wondered if he should keep him this off balance for the entire interview.

"I was… young when I received it. Far too young, I didn't know what I was signing up for. They wooed me with wealth and prestige. A laboratory for me with whatever equipment I needed for my work. I admit, I was weak- am weak. But then he started torturing, he made me kill people. And the Death Eaters rape children…" Albus was finding this increasingly boring.

He had been expecting something a little bit more original from the Dark Lord. I was young? They wooed me with money and power? I was weak? Now I see they're evil? And then adding in a fact like raping children- it was incredibly unoriginal- pathetic. Albus might have pretended to be insane- but he was not a fool underneath it all.

"Is that all? Because if it is you've got a lot to work on"

"I'll… I'll be a spy. I'll spy on the Dark Lord for you. I don't have any other choices- I need this job and I need to get out, away from them."

"A spy? And what would I get from this then?"

"Well…" Severus wasn't sure what he'd just heard- he'd already told him what he'd do. Seeing the confusion Albus elaborated.

"As I see it you have offered me one thing, your spying- undoubtedly you'd be a double agent- while I am asked to provide you with a job, residence, pay, an escape from your master, the ability to infiltrate young- impressionable- minds and some sort of protection from your own actions when Voldemort" Severus shuddered "-falls to the light. That's six for one and that one is pretty weak compared to protection- so in order for me to allow you to become my spy in Voldemort's" Severus flinched again "-ranks. Voldemort" Now Albus was just enjoying watching him flinch "-will be quite unforgiving when Voldemort" recoil "-finds out you have betrayed his Death Eaters and himself- Voldemort" cringe "Do you think you can take up that risk?"

"It's my only choice- I can't live like this"

"In order for me to let you become my spy I think it's only right that you give me five members of the inner circle and give me some form of blackmail material should you betray me. Will you?"

"Yes"

"Well, what are they?"

"Stimpson, Shellersy, Meliontide, Bookersbe, Nicerton and I'm willing to give you a memory of some sort to use against me"

"Yes, well- I will look into these. If they check out then I'll Owl you, if not then I won't and I'll have an arrest warrant on the streets in a matter of hours. Good Day Mr. Snape- I hope you can find your way out of the Castle" Dismissed as he was, Snape left the room, breathing a deep breath of relief- things were starting to work for once in his life- he thought as he exited the staircase. Things would be better now.

* * *

Lily was watching her son in a sort of far off awe. He was just so normal for a baby with so much potential. To be honest- she'd been hoping her baby to be a born Animagus or something really strange right from birth just so she could see what her childhood would have been had she been one. Now she saw that maybe magical babies weren't so different from non-magical ones. 

There wasn't any doubt that they had their moments when you doubted they were human, Lily had to admit that at least. Harry had already bounced nearly three times, his arm had gone blue for no apparent reason while he slept and he had begun floating once or twice. Even James had found that one strange- but he hadn't been too surprised- Harry was going to be a star Quidditch player. Lily rolled her eyes just thinking about that one. She hoped dearly that he didn't become one- just to spite his father.

Not to say that she didn't want him to achieve anything- it was quite the opposite. She wanted him to be everything she hadn't been. Everything she should have been if her family home hadn't burnt to the ground before she had learnt to talk. She would have been something else- something truly amazing, Lily just knew it. Just thinking about the Wyatt vaults made her skin tingle with anticipation.

What she had found couldn't be measured with gold or silver. It could only be measured in time. She had literally thousands of years of lineage protected in vaults guarded by private Silver Ridge Dragons- the most poisonous and vicious Dragons ever bred before the international Dragon breeding bans. Lily sighed in memory. There had been books, nearly a hundred, on the raising of children through the Wyatt techniques alone. Through their isolation for over one hundred years from Wizarding society they had advanced in several areas which were unheard of in modern terms.

Their teaching methods were also incredibly detailed and rigorous. Lily herself planned to raise Harry by them, strictly teaching him magic's greatest marvels from early childhood. How some of the specific spells were supposed to be taught to a child so young Lily didn't know- but she wanted to try anyway, Harry was especially bright and powerful. Even though she knew all mothers said the same things- this time she knew beyond a doubt that her Harry was different. It was in his blood to be.

Blood was an important part to what she planned to teach Harry. Not that pureblood crap she'd been subjected to throughout Hogwarts- blood magic, the manipulations placed on the blood and the magic's that can be derived from it. How to cast a blood ward, blood runes and bleeding ceremonies. Nearly twelve books were dedicated to the teaching of small children of blood magic.

Lily was brought out of her trance by the door opening with a creak. She spun around quickly to see James standing in the doorway again. He had the nasty habit of sneaking up on her. Lily almost felt like reprimanding him.

"We have to do something about this door. Watching Harry sleep again, luv?"

"He's the most beautiful baby."

"He's ours. The House Elves brought to my attention a letter they said arrived a few moments ago while I was looking over the family accounts in the study." He held up a letter Lily had previously not seen in his hand "It's from Albus and it's marked with several privacy spells- it looks important." Lily mentally shuddered- she found Dumbledore disturbing for his piercing gaze and fake personality. She saw through it like tissue paper but she didn't dare question him openly with his astounding support base. Lily's Slytherin friends saw it too- but they couldn't see past it; it seemed only Lily could.

"Have you opened it yet?"

"It's addressed to the both of us and Albus spelled it against interference- I couldn't if I'd wanted to" Deciding reading whatever this was in front of the baby while the baby was asleep was not necessarily a smart idea Lily walked out of the room and down the stairs. James seemed confused but Lily just kept walking until she made it to the study James had previously been working in.

"I didn't think it would be a very smart idea to open Albus'" Lily mentally shuddered but refrained from showing any sort of sign that she had "-letter in front of little Harry. We might not react well to it if it's as important as it sounds."

"Good thinking." James gave the letter, still in his hand, a final look before opening it expectantly. He scanned it before he seemed to stop. He spent several moments reading it over before he looked up at Lily with a horrified expression. Just for a moment Lily thought the letter was about her lineage. "I think I need to sit down" Lily found herself extremely nervous.

"What did it say?" James proceeded to sit down heavily in his study lounge.

"I don't know how to explain, read it for yourself" He held it out for Lily to take and read. Deciding that this was going to be bad, Lily bit her lip and took the offered letter in shaking hands.

Dear James and Lily,

Throughout your time within the Order of the Phoenix I have come to think of the two of you as my colleges and allies in this war against Voldemort. That is why it to my great concern that I must tell you this as it endangers your's and your child's life.

Last August I was interviewing the current Divination Professor when she gave me a Prophesy. For reasons I will soon explain I cannot give you the exact wording of the Prophesy but be assured they are detailed and to all tests true. The Prophesy detailed the birth of a child during the end of July who would have the power to kill the Dark Lord. I believe that your son, Harry, is that child.

Unfortunately up until recently I have interviewed all potential Staff members in Hogsmead, at the Hogshead. Sadly I now realise that this was not the wisest move. During the interview with our current Divination teacher, last August, she spoke the words of the Prophesy in front of the patrons of the Hogshead. I believe that you both know what this means as the Hogshead is not a savoury establishment. An eavesdropping Death Eater managed to hear half of the Prophecy and to escape with the information. It is therefore my belief that the Dark Lord now knows that your child may have the power to kill him.

As it is my belief that you deserve to know the parts pertaining to you in the Prophecy, here written are the first half of the Prophesy which I believe relates to your son and Lord Voldemort:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

Up until this point in time I could not be sure of the identity of the child but there is only one other magical child born under the correct conditions and time- the Longbottom child. However, we cannot take the risk that your son is not the little boy mentioned within the Prophesy and it is my belief that the best course of action you can undertake is to go into hiding.

Please put your affairs in order and hide. There is no lost honour in protecting your son from the darkest Lord of our age and possibly ever.

Looking out for you,

Albus Dumbledore.

Lily stared for a moment in disbelief at the page. Turning it over she was frustrated to find that nothing was there. That was it? That was his great divine message. Oh sorry to say this- but your son is possibly in mortal peril- why don't you go hide. Not to mention he'd known since last August for Christs sake. He would have known what date Lily was due with less than a wand wave if he'd bothered. What a monumental jerk.

"The fidelius charm. It won't work over such a large place as the manor but my family has some small cottages no one knows about…"

"What?" Lily knew what James was talking about; she just couldn't believe her ears. The Wyatt estates were magically hidden by what she had gathered as a Parseltongue version of the fidelius- it could easily hide them both. Added to that was the fact that the secret keeper was Lord Wyatt- such places were currently unfindable. Before she could say anything more James cut her off.

"We have to do it for Harry, for us. Godric's Hollow is the perfect place- it's small and manageable." Lily desperately tugged her charms.

"No James, you don't want that- I'll find us a safe place, in the Muggle world- you wait until it's done- I'll do it."

"No Lily. We have to do this and we have to do this my way- it's the only choice. The Muggle World? You-Know-Who can waltz into any place in the Muggle World without blinking if he wants to and you read what Albus said! You-Know-Who wants us dead, we're prime targets" Lily wanted to scream at him, to curse him with Imperious and make him listen to her. Why did he have to choose now to do something out of LOVE? Not when it could cost them Harry, her Harry.

"James- listen to me! I'll find us a –place- but I don't trust anyone with our secrets. Not one of your friends, not one of the Order- no one. I can find us a place that's already guarded."

"You have to trust someone- it's our only chance. Trust me." Lily wanted to fight, to fight for her survival- she wanted to leave James to hide away while she ran away to the Wyatt Estates but she knew she couldn't. She'd cursed herself to his side wether she wanted it now or not. Her wedding ring was evidence to that curse.

Wedding for Muggleborn, as she'd viewed herself at the time, was one sided because within the Magical World they were stateless. With no Lord they had no one who could cancel the magic that bound magic to blood and children within the union. Right now it didn't matter if she tried to turn to her Lord- he was her son and he couldn't do the magic's it required to divorce members of his clan. So she, like many Muggleborn and disowned Wizards and Witches before her, was unable to leave him and in this case it might be the factor which led to her death.

"I trust you James" Knowingly or not- Lily's fate from this point on was sealed in stone with her husband.

* * *

**November 1980**

Lily sealed the letter with a kiss and hissed secrecy, privacy and identification Charms. This letter could only be read by a Parseltongue and opened by her son- Harry Potter- Lord of Wyatt, Lord of Black, and Lord of Potter. Lily had written down everything she knew about her lineage and the vaults which belonged to the Wyatt line, a message regarding his powers and abilities and then a private message about her pride in her son.

The Letter would be delivered to Harry on his 6th birthday, hopefully whomever had guardianship of him would have taught him to read and he would be able to read it himself. If everything went to plan then she would come back and reclaim the letter, burning it- if it didn't then Harry would be able to develop what powers he could before Hogwarts. Lily knew it was a poor backup plan- but it would do for now and there was a chance to fix it up during however long their time in hiding lasted if she was covert enough.

She'd also written a separate will to be executed by the Goblins in case of her death regarding Harry's welfare. Harry already held all of the estates and lands she owned anyway so it was not required. He would first be sent to Sirius, as his only Godfather and the one Lily herself trusted most. If Sirius was out of the question he would be sent to Helena, who was expecting a girl already.

If things were really desperate and both Sirius and Helena were out of the question then James' close friend, almost brother, and Lily's good acquaintance Remus Lupin would have custody. He was a werewolf but he was still a very good role model and Lily didn't mind Harry becoming a strong dark magical creature. If somehow Narcissa was no longer with Lucius then Lily had stated that she wanted Harry to go to her before Remus. At the very bottom of her will Lily explicitly stated Harry was never to go to her 'sister' in Surry or James' friend Peter Pettigrew. Peter she thought of as a spineless wimp and she didn't want Harry to grow up that way while she thought Petunia might take it as some sort of an insult- the weirdo that she was.

Tomorrow morning, in approximately 12 hours, Lily would take her bags from Potter mansion with her son carefully in tow via floo. At the same time James would come to Gringotts himself to write out a will and inform the Goblins that he was going to be taking Sirius as his families Secret Keeper. James misjudged them, Lily knew- Goblins were nasty and tricky but they didn't breach their contracts of secrecy. Feeding them misinformation just wasn't going to do anything but confuse the poor things.

Lily would be casting the specialised charm, fidelius, to hide them using first Sirius as the keeper, Sirius would then go into hiding too. After a random period of time Sirius would come to Lily and Peter would become their secret Keeper while Sirius stayed in hiding and Peter Pettigrew stayed in plain view. It was all James' brilliant plan to trick the Wizarding world and hopefully the Dark Lord. Lily scoffed at his stupidity. What he hadn't accounted for was Peter betraying them which would land Sirius in Azkaban while Peter got off free. Lily didn't see the likelihood that Peter had enough of a backbone to serve the Dark Lord but she didn't rule it out entirely. It was plausible.

Handing the two dated and signed documents to the Goblin in front of her, Mr Grindstone gave her a weary look.

"Miss, are you sure you wish to make these conditions? They are quite against the normal conditions set upon the Vaults."

"Yes. On Harry's first visit to Gringotts he's to be given the Wyatt Vault keys and instructed that duplicate keys to the Potter and Black accounts are within the main vault. I also want you, personally, to look after the Wyatt Estates in the case of my death."

"I understand these are dangerous and doubtful times but why are you setting your affairs in order? We understand you to be a powerful witch, maybe stronger than The Dark Lord."

"I am strong, stronger than almost anyone but You-Know-Who is beyond me with who knows how much experience as a wizard. I know now that I'm a target and my husband is most certainly leading me to my death- so my affairs need to be set in order" Beginning to feel a tear in her eye Lily's eyes darkened and her behaviour switched to rude in order to maintain the Goblin's disgust and her own deep doubts about her own abilities. "But I hardly see how it's any of your business. Be sure it's done or I'll haunt you till the end of your days- on this I swear" Taking out her wand she cut open her palm, quickly healing it again. There was a shift in Lily's aura as her magic settled into the blood oath. With a swish of fabric and a wave of red hair Lily left the room at a quick run- desperate to leave the Goblin and her emotions behind.

* * *

**January 1981**

Harry was flying his broom through a tornado while being chased by the black clad figures he knew to be Death Eaters. He wasn't so much afraid of them as he was unenthusiastic at the prospect of being captured and sent to their Lord. He knew if their Lord had the chance he would commit unspeakable acts upon maybe even his desiccated corpse for either power or sheer pleasure. There was always the build up to the whole dead thing to look forward to too. These were the reasons Harry tried to flee rather than face his pursuers.

From out of the tornado they were suddenly flying in and out of tall tree's that looked to be maybe 1000 years old. Harry found this strange- but he didn't have time to think it over to harshly. The Death Eaters caught up to him, flanking him almost peacefully. Harry didn't find this at all strange- for in his current form, asleep, such things often felt normal.

The Death Eaters and he began flying at a more leisurely pace. They even began to fly around him in circles, performing tricks astride their brooms. Eventually they weren't on brooms and were flying of their own accord. Diving in and out of trees and playing hide and go seek, their clothes brightened, their masks falling away to reveal human sized pixies with human skin. Harry found them fascinating and began to pay more attention to them than the trees.

Harry was flying by himself. He had a strange feeling that his 'friends' had had to go- they weren't allowed here. Harry realised he was asleep again, the realisation hitting him a little off centre. He wanted to turn around and just wake up but he couldn't. He didn't know why but he couldn't. Suddenly feeling very real the woods began to get darker and darker the further he went into them. Landing, Harry began to walk against his will further into the dark woods. His broom was discarded and quickly faded away into what Harry knew to call the dreamscape. Taking out his wand he lit it- opening up this sphere of green and violet light which beyond he couldn't see any more. Harry felt like he was being watched.

He stopped. There- in the trees, at impossible angles and in impossible places- scalding red eyes began to appear- first two, then four, then five and seven and more and more and more and more. They surrounded him, stripping him down with their eyes. Those angry red eyes stared and they hated him from every direction, burning into him. Harry knew it- they hated him intensely. Those red eyes soon filled the dark forest until they were all Harry could see. He was trapped. He didn't want to be near them. Turning back the way he came he ran as fast as he could away from them. He couldn't let them catch him. The darkness abated but the eyes did not. He ran as fast as he could into the light, searching for a way out and finding none.

Where did he put the broom! He had to find it to escape, he had to or he was doomed. He ran, scanning the ground for his Nimbus 2000. His trusty broom he'd had since he could remember. Eventually finding a straight piece of wood Harry muttered a quick spell, while still running, before mounting it and kicking off into the air. The forest never lightened and those red eyes never disappeared. Eventually Harry felt hands all around him, they caught him and he was trapped in their spinning world of darkness and pain.

There was deep fear here, fear he wanted nothing to do with. With every second the spinning became more rampant and the apparent pain Harry thought he should be feeling heightened. Hands groped and grabbed for him from all directions and those red eyes laughed at him, scorning him for his weakness for his fear against what he couldn't see or feel. They spun him ruthlessly groping and grabbing and poking and jabbing. Harry just wanted it to end. He wasn't brave and he wasn't ready to face what held him- he knew that now, but it didn't matter. Rough hands stopped him and he stopped spinning in Darkness as he cried, hot tears of shame streaming down his cold cheeks. There in the dark, something lurked which sent shivers down his spine. There was a high-pitched keen and Harry was no longer there.

Harry was walking in a clearing he was sure he was supposed to remember. He felt like he'd been here before- but he didn't know how. Considering that Harry knew this was a dream Harry guessed that this might be a distorted memory? It was cold and the wind was ripping at him. Light shone down bright and warm in a stark contrast to the wind, but its warmth merely lessened the winds sting rather than reversing it.

"Hello Harry" There, in front of him, stood a blue… thing. It looked male with blue skin, white wings, legs and arms like a human with elongated limbs and face, smallish.

"Do I know you?"

"Forgotten me already. That's fine" Harry felt something shift and examined his surroundings. They stood in what could only be a glen of some sort. It surprised Harry somewhat as he couldn't remember ever being in something similar in reality. "Harry?"

"Yes…"

"Run with me Harry." And they were off. Without another word they were running fast and hard into oblivion. Harry's strides became leaps and his leaps became soaring bounds and finally he was flying. Straight and hard they were flying like bullets through the air into what Harry vaguely recognised as home. Harry felt an enormous sense of release. It didn't matter what they were doing or even where they were going, he could just be for a moment. Spinning at a speed of a Muggle bullet or a spell shot of with a snap of the wrist Harry saw the ground and the sky in even proportions and he felt none the more sick for it. Suddenly they were standing in front of a Tree, disjointed and disfigured as it was, which held a soft sort of glow. Harry remarked that most trees shouldn't glow- maybe it was magical.

"Where are we friend?"

"Home" There was a door on the front of the tree which was crookedly held in place by vines and other forms of plant life. Harry didn't find it awkward or strange at all, though he did realise it should be strange to see. No, another part of him said- deeper and older than he knew- this was as all trees should stand and all homes should be made. This is natural. "Come inside, Harry" And Harry's friend was gone. Harry knew his friend was behind that door- wherever that led. He wanted to go home now.

In the real world baby Harry shuffled in his sleep.

* * *

**March 1981**

Harry sat in his crib, playing with Fawkes in a sort of… well an unusual way. Fawkes would make a trill and Harry would try to copy. Now to a normal Muggle- such behaviour was weird, but could be understood in the simple terms that Harry was trying to copy what was around him. To a Wizard or Witch it would be sightly different given the fact that Harry was obviously trying to communicate to a phoenix- to them it would seem like he was trying to talk to his familiar. But between Harry and Fawkes- Fawkes was teaching Harry how to speak the avian tongue.

It'd all started when Harry had been trying to practice his words and learn how to speak from scratch. To Fawkes it was all just noise but when Harry told him, mentally, what he was doing Fawkes suggested a radical idea- perhaps he could teach Harry how to speak, verbally, with birds? Harry had jumped at the idea. Such ability would be an asset for the enormous spy and information network it would enable him. The Hogwarts Owlery alone would be enough information to know exactly what was happening in any place of the world at any given time. So quickly Harry had asked Fawkes to teach him- soon after he realised it would not be so easy.

The human voice box was simply not set up for the sounds Harry was attempting to learn. At least with English Harry had at one time known how to speak it fluently- as it stood Harry doubted he'd ever learn it or be able to hold a full conversation with any bird he might come across. Fawkes however, was more optimistic about Harry's chances.

The average chick had a very basic understanding of the avian tongue from birth. This made it easier for the mother to explain what certain things meant, but depending on exactly which bird species you were dealing with the language did vary almost beyond recognition. For instance birds which had developed from strictly the north or colder climates often were very abrupt and direct with their language. They did not engage often in small talk as such detracted from the overwhelming urge to hunt they felt almost always.

The migrational birds which often chatted and squawked on random facts could go on about nothing for hours, but their language was almost always the same. A migrational bird was also great for descriptions and directions as this was pretty much what they talked about for hours on end. However they often weren't the most intellectual birds based on their distinctly flock based thought.

The magical birds were another matter altogether. They were often quite smart, independent and most lived for extended periods of time- none quite so long as the Phoenix but still, the magical bird lived extended and luxurious paced lives. There was a distinct line between the dark and the light birds. Light birds were almost entirely herbivorous, keeping to berry's and fruits, with the few exceptions of the common Augurey and Diricawl- both of which were slightly dubious in nature but neither truly dark. Dark birds chose to feast on flesh and other meats in their various forms. Certain types were prone to attacking humans, such as the carrion birds or the raptor relatives- all of these Fawkes himself judged to be dark, but aside from this he saw nothing wrong with them- they merely fought to survive.

Harry was going fairly well to be honest. Considering that his pronunciations often left much to be desired he was progressing at an acceptable, if slower than teaching a newborn chick, rate. Fawkes guessed that within the year Harry would be able to speak both avian and English fluently if everything went to plan.

* * *

Lily sat in her living room very quietly late into the night. With Harry asleep for the night and James listening to that infernal Wizard Wireless it left Lily with time to think. She was thinking, in a rather abject and gloomy way, about what her friends and even her adoptive sister were doing for Halloween. She imagined Narcissa was sitting in her over sized mansion, unhappily floating around as she did. Narcissa used to be a very Halloween sort of witch- but Lily just couldn't see 'Cissa in any sort of pleasant mood while she was chained to Lucius. Helena would no doubt be off her cracker, most likely on a broom flying around scaring Muggles as she was accustomed to do when the fancy took her. The image made Lily laugh, much like had what seemed long ago. How she missed her friends. 

Her thoughts turned to her adoptive sister. There was no blood between them and she felt nothing but a cold anger towards her sisters Muggle husband. How she could have believed that she was related to that bitch she didn't know. Her parents had always been good to her and her sister had once been like blood- but now they were estranged. It didn't help any that Petunia's parents had died quite a while ago. Lily gave a sigh, if she ever survived all this she promised herself she'd try to get along better with the wench.

For the past few months Harry had been acting strangely. He switched between needy and distant in a matter of hours regularly. As it continued she'd become more and more concerned for him. She talked to James about it and he had simply called Harry fussy, but Lily knew better, her Harry was depressed. It was obvious that he was feeling the drawbacks of being the only baby his age. Lily knew that babies needed social touch- James just assumed it was a Muggle thing.

Just that morning they'd swapped secret keepers from Sirius to Peter. Lily had felt uneasy about it but she hadn't been able to convince anyone out of it. Over the time she'd been under Sirius' protection she had felt safe- but with Peter she felt an uncertainty. Surely since Sirius had been able to keep the secret for so long then it was safe to keep him as the secret keeper- but no- Sirius and James had it in their heads that this was the way to do it. Lily shook her head in disdain.

There was a sharp knock on the door and Lily's head shot up. Peter was going in hiding; he wasn't going to contact them for some time. _No._ She began to put things together in her mind quickly- his shyness, his weasel nature. _That Rat!_ She ran up the stairs as quickly as she could to her little boy.

"Lily! Take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-" Lily slammed the door shut behind herself and quickly picked her little boy Harry up, his Phoenix watching on with a sad expression. He was near a burning day, Lily knew, but she didn't care. She didn't notice that Harry was awake before she slammed the door shut; she didn't notice that Harry was deathly silent- she didn't notice the tears in his eyes. She paid him no attention and began searching frantically for the portkey she'd made for this situation exactly.

From downstairs there was a thump as Lily felt her husband die suddenly, her marriage charms and spells falling apart as quickly as her control charms. Lily cursed herself mentally for hiding the damn portkey so well; as she frantically searched harder and faster for the portkey, her time was running short. Finding it beneath a sheet, the baby's toy held tightly- she uttered the Parseltongue keyword.

'**Flight' **That sinking feeling in her stomach told her that the pull wasn't coming from her navel as it should and she wasn't somewhere in Africa. The son of a bitch had put up anti-portkey wards- damn! Taking another chance and hoping against hope- she tried to apparate but found that she could not- double damn. Obviously he had been thorough and put up wards for that too.

'**Keep my baby safe, keep my Baby safe, Keep My Baby Safe. KEEP MY BABY SAFE'** She was frantic as the door crashed open and there stood Voldemort. Taking a deep breath, turning calmly and deliberately, she placed Harry in his crib as he sniffled and tears streamed down his face. She'd purposely remembered to personally charm the crib to be resistant to everything short of the unforgivable curses. Taking another breath she whispered the words "I Love you" to her baby boy below the dark Lords hearing. Facing her enemy up front, she turned back to look into those cold Green eyes with equally cold Green eyes.

"So this is the great Lily Potter, what a shame we couldn't have met on more…pleasant circumstances." Lily's mind flickered for a moment before she apparently lost her composure and broke down on the floor in front of the crib.

"Not Harry, please not Harry! Please, I'll do anything!"

"Stand aside- Stand aside girl"

"Not Harry! Take me instead!"

"Stand aside!"

"Take me instead!"

"_Avada Kedavra_"

'**For you, Lord Wyatt, I die'** Harry's head snapped up (as much as a baby of less then 15 months could)- he hadn't heard that- he couldn't have, it wasn't meant to…

"Baby Harry, your mother was foolish to stand against me, the Heir of Slytherin. You will soon be with her- such a waste, those pretty Green eyes. My servants would have been pleased to… play with you and her. It is no matter." His wand lazily flickered up and down "_Avada Kedavra_" Voldemort's high pitched cackle sounded throughout Godric's Hollow. As Green light, Green light which so closely resembled Harry's own eyes, sped towards him time stopped still, holding the deadly Green curse in its place. A Red vapour rose from where Harry's mother had once lain, dead. Harry stared in wonder as the vapour left his mother and entered him. From his forehead a splitting pain erupted, blinding Harry's eyes in Red light. There was a high pitched screech as Voldemort's cackle ended with a wail and a thump as his dead body fell to the ground in a heap. Harry's eyes glowed eerily in the darkness as the two bodies sat in the room, motionless and silent.

Harry's eyes cleared, revealing the Red vapour watching Harry, a vague face smiling down at him. Was this his mother or her soul? Without warning the Red Light jerked forwards, entering a shocked Harry's tiny, pint sized frame for the second time that night. This time the feeling of love surrounded him as Harry felt her magic assimilating within him. Harry knew that the feeling felt familiar, like it had happened to him before, but this realisation passed away as he fell unconscious in his crib, red light flickering around him.

Fawkes watched dispassionately and wondered if things were heading where they should have. He watched on motionlessly as Black magic rose from the Dark Lord, resting itself within Harry's new scar before fading away. The grey form of a ghost fled the room with a high pitched wail. Fawkes realised somewhat gloomily that things had changed before he burst into flame, setting the room, and eventually the house, on fire with an intensity of a hundred suns. Baby Harry slept on soundly in his crib, unaware as his childhood home burnt to the ground.

* * *

Bellatrix awoke with a startled cry. Looking around she remembered her surroundings. It was dark, she was cold and most importantly she was alone. She sobbed to herself pathetically as she remembered her various tortures and half healed scars. They were cruel and horrible things, her captives. Their red eyes and dark skin were the only definable characteristics in the gloom she found herself in. 

Why was she being tortured? She didn't rightly know, this was just how it had been ever since she'd found herself here. They never talked to her; they never tried to get information out of her. To them, she imagined herself to be only a plaything, something with which they toyed- nothing more.

Why was she here? She didn't quite understand that one either. Her last memories outside of her prison cell were the tug from behind the navel and then the crushing feeling of rejection. What these meant and how they related to being here she had no idea. Possibly she had been tricked with her portkey, sold one (for she did not know how to make one) which had been tampered with? But again, she did not know and she doubted she would anytime soon.

Who were her captors? Again she did not rightly know. In desperate attempts to find out why they tortured her so, she had screamed the Dark Lords most feared name to them, claiming to be his ally. They had made not a sound, merely continuing to peel off layer after layer of skin, slashing deeply into her flesh. She had then cried to be a spy, and still no response, not even a change of pace or a pause. She deeply suspected they didn't speak English- but they never spoke verbally in _any_ tongue so she didn't know.

Her cell, her prison was stone on all sides, roof and floor. There was nothing to differentiate where the door was, only that there was one and her captors used it regularly. The cold stone floor was damp and the air stifling as Bellatrix assumed there was no ventilation. Despite these temperature differences, she felt like she was constantly frozen with despair and grief.

The door opened silently, admitting two glowing red eyes into the pitch darkness. Bellatrix Lestrange-Black screamed.

* * *

Neville Longbottom was not a smart baby, well- not particularly. That's not to say he was stupid. No- he was developing at what could be called a reasonable rate- he was just nothing particularly _special_. Well- no again, that wasn't entirely true. There was something about Neville that was different- but what it was they couldn't identify. 

You see, straight after Neville had been born (as was the family tradition)he'd been thoroughly tested to see exactly what he could offer to the family repertoire of traits and abilities. The transfiguration tests clearly told the family that he would not be talented with any form of transformation but the base ability to become an animagus was there. That was nice- but not anything that most of them didn't have. Hell- even some of the squibs in the family had gotten that up on their tests. His Mother, Alice, had been a bit of a Transfiguration whiz at her time and was duly upset to see her son was not a whiz like herself. The Charms test showed a flat nothing, as did the Mind, Medical, Divination and Arithmancy tests. The Defence Against the Dark Arts test revealed something odd though. There was something there- it just wasn't identifiable. Every book the Longbottom family looked through they saw nothing, and nothing, and nothing. Eventually they simply stopped and assumed the spell was mucking up.

It was with this sort of spirit that the family faintly believed that he was a squib. By unspoken agreement they all knew that they should wait for him to show himself. Alice herself didn't approve of this sort of behaviour, as her own family was a lot less paranoid about the whole affair of magical development. Even Frank- whohad grown up this way- was fiercely protective of his son, refusing to even think that he'd be a squib. And so the two proud parents had thus raised their healthy, if a bit chubby, little boy.

When Alice and Frank had gotten the news that their son may be destined to defeat You-Know-Who they had hidden as far North as they could, taking their son to the Orkney Islands. The place they'd gotten was a nice little cottage that magically maintained a cosy temperature and had an annexed greenhouse, thus taking away the need to buy their food- instead growing it year round with a little help from their wands.

And so it was, on November the 2nd, thatAlice sat there, with her precious son in her lap, bouncing him slightly- when there was a sharp knock on the door. Alice and Frank both knew they were in danger, even if it now appeared that the Potter boy was the Prophecy child, and so Alice took Baby Neville and put him in the back room, quietly charming him asleep with a helpful spell. Alice returned and both of them drew their wands, ready to start shooting spells the moment that door opened.

Frank opened the door to be overwhelmed immediately by no less than three Wizards but Alice managed to shoot of a stunner which disabled one of them immediately. Not waiting for the obvious Death Eaters to take any sort of advantage she shot off three more stunners, hoping to get all three of them down. Unfortunately the two remaining Death Eaters dived for it just in time. Frank got up and they began to duel with the Death Eaters.

Baby Neville struggled against his mothers sleeping charm in the next room. He was needed.

Spells and Curses flew across the room, Alice mainly trying to shoot off stunners to disable them while Frank tried to shield his wife from any attacks. It was a tried and proven method the two of them had taken from the standard Auror textbooks and it had served them well for years. Unfortunately almost every Auror had used this method against Death Eaters and eventually the Death Eaters had learnt to work around it. A simple Crucio towards the defender and both of them were open and defenceless.

Baby Neville struggled harder against his mothers sleeping charm in the next room. He knew he was needed.

Quickly enacting their strategies against the Aurors main defences the two Death Eaters began sending Crucio's like crazy at Frank. Frank's shield just wasn't good enough to deflect the Unforgivable and he fell on his hands and knees, his wand still grasped firmly in his hand. Alice, realising what they were doing quickly put up another, weaker, shield that she didn't have to maintain and shot a slashing hex at the Death Eater who was holding the Crucio on her husband. It worked to stop the painful curse, but by the time the slashing hex had made its mark Alice's shield had shattered and the other Death Eater had successfully stunned her.

Baby Neville broke the sleeping charm in the next room with a shattering sound. Awake and alert, Neville felt the urge to help protect his parents. Being unable to crawl- Neville apparated into the next room in a matter of seconds with Accidental magic; once there, finding the bad men cursing his father and his mother asleep Neville did what baby's did best- he cried. He cried so loud and with such magical presence that the Death Eaters covered their ears in fright and pain. Frank, noticing that he was no longer in pain and not feeling the negative effects of his sons screech, took the opportunity to stun the two of them left standing. Finding his son behind him, crying- Frank picked up the boy and bounced him calming him down quickly. Neville's magic had saved his life, Frank realised- looking at the blood pouring out of the Death Eater scum's ears. Frank began to clean up the scene and hopefully take these Death Eaters to the Ministry for questioning.

* * *

**The Day Before**

"Peter! Why Peter!" Sirius Black chased the stumbling Peter Pettigrew down the street, jets of light streaming out of his wand as he tried to stun or disable the little piece of shit. Suddenly, when Peter was about to enter the road he turned.

"Sirius! You betrayed Lily and James! You were their secret keeper!" Carefully pointing his wand behind him he shot of the most powerful silent spell he could, killing twelve innocent Muggles before cutting off his finger and disappearing in the form of a rat. Sirius just stared as there were pops of apparition. The rat had gotten away. Sirius let out a maniacal laugh as he was stunned. He would wake up in a nice cell in Azkaban in15 hours.

* * *

**December 1981**

Harry sat quietly, nursing his wounds, in his small cupboard. Such was the life of The-Boy-Who-Lived- for now at least. The moment Harry had arrived, that fateful morning, November the 2nd 1981 he'd been unwanted. Petunia had screamed ridiculously, falling into a dead faint. When she had woken up again he'd been brought in with the milk and that had been that.

At first his crib had been in the nursery with Dudley. Of course it had been an ugly sort of crib that smelt old and unclean with the occasional cobweb. Harry often wondered in the nights he was in it if the Dursley's wanted one of the spiders to bite him and for him to die. Eventually he didn't even have to ask himself.

On those nights Harry wondered what had happened to Fawkes that night. He knew Fawkes was close to his burning day and usually that meant that for a few weeks Phoenix's were kind of helpless. He'd expected Fawkes to show up when he was able to, after he'd grown up enough to fly most likely. But as the weeks passed by Harry began to doubt. Had Fawkes been hurt somehow? Did Fawkes not know how to get here? These thoughts troubled Harry so he tried to keep them at arms length. It usually didn't work.

Harry also was left to think about what exactly had happened that night. The red vapour he assumed to be his mothers soul, but the deadly curse hadn't even touched him so what exactly was the cause of the lightning shaped scar on his forehead? It didn't make sense that it just come out that way. It also didn't make sense how this connection had been forged without contact with the spell.

The moment he'd first woken after that night he'd felt his connection new and alive between himself and Voldemort. Such a connection was hard to miss when you were an accomplish Occlumens much like Harry was. That feeling of Voldemort being with him had been unmistakable. Luckily for Harry the connection had not had a chance to root properly in his mindscape- the place in which his mind resided and stored memories. His first conscious action was to separate it from his mind entirely, caging it into a small box at the back of his mind, before it could take root.

In the daytimes Harry was left completely alone while Dudley was taken out, allowed to play in the back yard or even help Petunia make cookies. Harry was only fed when he cried for it and never changed. Eventually Harry had become so disgusted that he'd vanished it himself, replacing it with a clean nappy and cleaning up his state.

When Harry didn't cry during the nights he was taken out of Dudley's room and put into the cupboard under the stairs. Several spiders and cockroaches had lived down here originally and they had not been pleased with the idea of sharing with a human child. Harry had vanished them into Dudley's crib when they tried to attack him.

After Harry was left in the cupboard they didn't let him out for days. They gave him just enough food to live off of but eventually Harry began to get thinner and smaller. Harry knew this was abuse but at that moment he was unable to speak so there was nothing he could do. When they did finally take Harry out of his cupboard they didn't put him back into the dirty crib upstairs but instead they left him in the backyard in the gardens for a few hours. Now Harry knew they were outright trying to kill him as it was freezing cold outside. Harry persisted though, casting warming after warming charm on himself to survive the harsh cold. They only brought him back inside because the neighbours complained. Harry had never been more thankful for the Dursley's obnoxious and nosy neighbours.

His sides were stinging irritably from the scrape which was quickly healing. This he'd gotten from his delightful cousin. Harry had finally worked out how to walk and his nasty cousin, carefully trained from birth, had given him a shove while he was trying for the stairs. He'd fallen down from the top, using his side as a sort of sled. The scrape was serious and would have otherwise scarred if Harry hadn't been quite so good with healing magic. But it took Harry's training to fix this- it wasn't something normal accidental magic could fix.

Unfortunately this wasn't the first time this had happened to Harry. Even Petunia had given him a kick to get out of her way while he was crawling. All of the Dursley's did it. They gave Harry a kick, a shove or a little jab to get him out of their way, to tell him to be quiet or just to be mean. No wonder Harry had grown up the way he had. It was even a wonder, what with the way Dudley was trained to push him down when he walked, that Harry had learnt to walk at all the first time around and wasn't just crawling around like a slave.

With the amount of food Harry was given, again barely enough to live off, Harry's magic was suffering. The less food, the less nutrition, the less magic he could provide from within. Harry understood this fundamental truth and tried to steal food as often as he could from either Dudley or the fridge- unfortunately it just wasn't enough. Often the magic it took for a baby to do that much magic was more than the food itself actually gave him.

There was also the fact that with less food his magic had to pay the bill for all the illness he would have otherwise had had he not had magic. With Harry having to vanish his own diapers, summon his own food and fend off various bugs, mice and other pests it just wasn't enough to keep him going. Simply put there just wasn't enough going in for what was coming out. Harry understood that if he continued to live as he was he could actually die.

Harry had often wondered how he hadn't died the first time. If these were the conditions he was faced with as a small child then how had he survived? His metabolism was advanced because he was magical. It was the key reason for why there weren't completely obese members of the Wizarding world. As long as a Witch or Wizard used his or her magic powers they used much more energy than a Muggle and thus used more of the energy they were given through food. So if his metabolism was advanced then where was all the food he should have been eating? Harry still suspected that his Aunt and Uncle had malnourished Harry for his entire life. It was simply a Dursley thing to do.

As the last of Harry's wounds were once again pink skin Harry's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. He needed more food and he needed it quickly. Pulling from his magical reserves, which were still vast, Harry cast a simple wandless summoning spell overlayed with a silent apparition spell. It was something he'd found in his previous life to be dead useful.

The average summoning spell simply didn't have the direction it took for the object to come straight from point a to b like an apparition spell could do. Putting the two together allowed for the summoning to be done from greater distances with less time and through solid obstacles. When you were strapped for cash you could summon it directly from a Muggle bank. The unfortunate problem with this was that the spell didn't work in any place which held anti-apparition wards and it took more magic than both spells put together. The first was not a problem while the second was _the_ problem.

The food that appeared was less than appetizing, but it would be enough to make a simple sandwich. Harry quickly began to make his sandwich, remembering to layer it thickly for the food content, before banishing it back to the fridge. Harry was loath to do this often as it was possible that they would figure out what was happening and blame him. Such an event would surely mean bad things, but for the moment if Harry was to survive what could be an 10 year stay with the Dursley's he'd have to eat as much as he could as often as he could.

Life at the Dursley's was not looking up

* * *

**New Years Eve 1981**

Harry was beside himself with rage. His thrice God Damned Uncle would rue the day he ever laid a finger on Harry. At that moment Harry had several broken ribs, a shattered eye socket and a nasty bruise on his bottom, which granted was a lot less than what he very well could have gotten seeing as his Uncle was about 300 pounds bigger than Harry and Harry wasn't older than three, but he was still rather hurt and rather pissed.

That night, Vernon had come home drunk as a sailor for some inane reason. Harry of course had been in his cupboard at the time, where he was instructed, to his apparent limited understanding; that he was never to leave unless his Uncle or Aunt let him out. Petunia had threatened to put locks on the door, which Harry knew she one day would do. Such facts were not in the least comforting. They rarely did let him out and he wasn't about to starve. So when Uncle Vernon had slammed open the door, despite it being nearly 11 at night- Harry had found it distinctly strange. When the wave of alcoholic waft hit him in the face he knew that this was not so strange.

"Get out freak" Harry had frozen in place. He was confronted and shocked. Confronted with a side of his Uncle he rarely if ever remembered and Shocked by his Uncle's use of the word Freak. This was the first time his Uncle had ever called him a freak to his face. Wow- what a Kodak moment- he sarcastically thought.

"Unc…" Apparently the answer was not fast enough.

"I said Get out freak!" His Uncle Vernon had roughly hauled him out of the cupboard and threw him onto the hallway floor.

"Mummy!" A cry from upstairs had distracted Vernon enough for Harry to scramble away out of Vernon's immediate view.

"I'm coming honey" The reply sounded almost immediately. Absently Harry had remembered that his Mummy had said the same thing when he cried.

"Boy, you get back here or I'll belt you!" Harry had shivered. When he remembered being beaten the experience had never ended with a simple belt. Sometimes sticks, his ham sized hand or even one time one of Aunt Petunia's rose stems had been used. Generally it was just what was around when Vernon was in the mood. But he'd been much older then and he'd only ever gotten a sore backside from it. This could turn out to be much worse.

"Boy! Don't whimper behind the furniture in here like a girl. Meet your Uncle face to face." His blurred voice echoed in an ethereal manner around the small room. Harry hadn't been dumb enough to come out which had only angered Vernon more. He stumbled around and Harry tried to run but he daren't go into the kitchen in case Vernon grabbed a knife. Finding nowhere else to go he'd taken it with a wince. Vernon had punched Harry in the face as hard as he could and Harry had gotten his first real ouch- the broken eye socket.

Harry, lying as pronely as he was at the time after such a massive hit to the face, was pulled up off his feet by that ham of a hand and put over Vernon's massive hammy knee. The beating Harry then received, with Vernon's bare hand was so humiliating and degrading Harry had cried, stringing his swelling eye as it did.

When Vernon was done he'd thrown him to the floor where Harry had naturally tried to shrivel up into a tiny ball where he was less prone. As Vernon passed and Harry relaxed Vernon delivered a final kick to the stomach, breaking Harry's ribs crudely. Vernon's throaty laugh was all that pierced the dark silence that was growing inside the house, deafening Harry.

Harry wanted to scream, to wake the neighbours and go to the police but Harry guessed that even if that happened the Wizards would put him back here. Had this happened, Harry wondered? Did he not remember the first five years with his Aunt and Uncle because this is what had happened? Harry didn't want to find out if this was how those first five years would play out- he had to leave.

So Harry was in a towering rage, furious and hurt. He collectedseveral daysworth of food from the fridge, if he rationed it properly, and with a small pop- Harry Potterdisappeared.

* * *

Harry reappeared in a field in the middle of nowhere. He didn't know what had driven him to apparating here but it was far, far, far away from the Dursley's. Harry imagined it to be somewhere in Wales thanks to his almost eighth sense of global positioning. The cold bitter wind bit into him so he sat down in the snow. He needed to heal himself before he could go anywhere else. Casting a quick warming spell Harry set to work healing his eye socket first as it was potentially the most dangerous of his wounds. If he couldn't see things could get ugly very quickly. 

The healing process took longer than Harry had anticipated. To heal his eye he spent nearly three hours in the freezing cold wind and snow. His magic was rapidly ebbing away but Harry had to persist and finish healing himself. It didn't help that every three minutes he had to cast another heating charm to stop himself from contracting frostbite or something similar. Harry cursed his Uncle for doing this to his small frame and possibly ruining his sight.

When Harry was finally done healing his eye he'd set straight away to healing his ribs. It wasn't nearly as threatening but it would make breathing harder and therefore decrease his mobility. Being unable to move was only slightly better than being unable to see and no less dangerous.

It took him another two hours before they had healed and his magic was lower than Harry himself had ever let it go. Deciding that the bruise on his butt wasn't worth healing Harry began looking for a way to create some sort of a shelter from the wind and snow. Eventually Harry found a stick and transfigured it into a deformed looking doghouse. For the moment it was enough and Harry crawled gratefully in, sealing the door shut with several spells before creating an itchy blanket from a thread of the pyjamas he was wearing.

Harry fell asleep soon after, unaware that his magic was no longer there.

* * *

Harry didn't wake for another day, he was that magically exhausted. When he did wake up it was to feel extremely tired and extremely frail. His Doghouse, filled with scratchy blanket was sanctuary enough for the moment, but Harry needed some sort of food and he needed it now. With his magic as worn down as he realised it now was he was left to eat his food and hopefully regain some of his strength. 

He waited in his little doghouse for two more days before finding himself with what he hoped to be enough strength to leave it. When he exited he transfigured the blanket into a thick, scratchy, jacket and thick, scratchy, leggings. For his feet he transfigured the doghouse into a pair of thick wooden shoes with a cushioning spell for his feet. Ready to set off Harry made his first destination to where he last remembered Hermione's address to be.

Because his magic was so low Harry opted to go for two smaller apparition jumps rather than one long and draining jump which could very well drain him completely. So it was a few days after New Years that Hermione saw Harry for the first time since he'd been born. To say she was excited would be an unfair understatement, she was ecstatic.

"Harry!" Quickly she tackled him to the ground, hugging him profusely.

"Whoa there Hermione"

"It's great to see you. You don't know how lonely I've been"

"It's great to see you too, Hermione. I came because I've left the Dursley's for the last time." Hermione quickly got up off of Harry and helped his smaller frame up. Looking him over for the first time she noticed he looked a lot thinner than he should and his emaciated face was rather telling.

"What did they do to you Harry? You look as thin as a stick and you're not meant to have lost your puppy fat yet"

"I know- they were… really bad. I don't want to talk about it" Hermione's face set into a stern scowl as he said that.

"Fine, but you will eat and I'll see if I can't make you fatter in the next few days."

"No Hermione- I, I don't think I should. I mean- how will you explain me away? Your parents are bound to send me to the police if they see me…"

"You're right of course, my parentshave a thingabout breaking the law. Do you have any food?"

"Just what I stole from the Dursley's" Hermione's hand suddenly shot out to grab Harry's jacket and then his leggings.

"Harry- this won't do. Did you apparate straight from the Dursley's?"

"No- I made a stop off in Wales for a few days before I came here."

"I don't know how you survived. This fabric is transfigured, isn't it?"

"Yes"

"Well, take it off. I'll adjust some of my Dad's clothes for you then I'll put some warming charms into it for you. You know transfiguring clothes is bad- especially from what I guess were some sort of a thread. You would have been better off if you'd stolen some of that whales clothes rather than transfiguring some for you" Hermione had met Harry's Uncle in the weeks after Hogwarts had fallen, so she knew just how large he was- not to mention how rude he was. "I'll be back in a second"

"Thanks Herm" With a smile she dashed away, her brown hair bouncing behind her. He hated the idea of taking charity but he needed it. These clothes would come apart soon anyway. He didn't have the strength when he'd made them to make them indefinitely this shape so he'd had to make it a temporary change. And with the heating charms Hermione promised to put on the clothes it would be tempting. Especially if he didn't have to constantly keep adding heating charms to his personage. Hermione soon came back with what looked like a large sweater, trousers and some shirts.

"These are for you- Dad doesn't wear them that often and they don't have any sort of sentimental value- so put them on." Harry was embarrassed for a moment and blushed in Hermione's direction.

"Trust me Harry- you've got nothing I haven't already seen" His silent stare eventually persuaded her to leave the room with a "Fine then". Putting on the clothes he set about adjusting them to fit. He had to shrink the trousers several times to make them fit without sliding down around his ankles and the shirts more times to make them sit properly across his back.

"Hermione?" She came back in, looking him over with an appraising eye.

"This should do well." A few muttered heating spells laid into the fabric later and Harry was all set. "I really don't know how you survived in those rags"

"Heating spells"

"So tell me, what's life been like so far?"

"Well- not so good…"

* * *

Harry walked on the outskirts of Colchester, Essex. He was trying to move as quickly as he could to avoid attention, but it didn't look like he'd get much of that. Several people had stopped him and asked him what he was doing walking around at this time of day in the middle of nowhere. You'd think they hadn't seen a three year old on the run before. 

Seeing some sort of woodland in the distance Harry decided to take better cover and walked right in, away from the road. At first, as he walked along rather aimlessly Harry didn't find anything odd. It wasn't until he noticed that he couldn't see the road that he became concerned. Concern turned to worry as he realised he couldn't hear cars either. Worry turned to panic as he felt his surroundings and realised there was magic in the air. He'd somehow stumbled across a magical woodland of some sort. This was not good.

Not remembering in which direction he'd come, which was strange for Harry, he walked quicker, following the sun and hoping he'd eventually find his way out. From his reckoning it was about 3 in the afternoon so the sun should be taking him west. If he walked west enough he should find some sort of exit- right?

So Harry trudged on and on into the magical woodland he had never been in before and had no idea of the possible dangers which were likely to come up while inside of one. There shouldn't be too much dangerous in here- right? Harry had training beyond almost any full grown Wizard- surely he should be able to fend off whatever was in here? In private retrospect Harry would realise this was not the smartest thought- he was three after all.

So Harry trudged and trudged and trudged on a little more, walking further and further into the darkening woods heedless to the danger he was about to face. The first sign that something might be coming was the strong smell of rotten eggs and urine. The second was the thump, thump, thump of heavy footfalls on the ground. By that time it was too late and the Troll had already caught sight of Harry. With a loud roar the thing charged at Harry who found himself hard pushed to run away fast enough.

Harry did not; by some spectacular feat of magic manage to escape the troll. When he was caught he did not simply slip out of the things great dustbin sized fist. And when the great thing threw Harry as far and as hard as it possibly could into the air- Harry did not fly away to safety. No- on that day Harry did not win. He died on impact with a sickening crunch, landing in the snow moments later. His body was cold in hours.

* * *

Not twenty four hours later a very cold and shivering Harry Potter knocked on the glass window of the second story window of the Weasley twin's room.

* * *

**End Chapter**

**Next Chapter: Growing up Serious and The Lady's formal education**


	9. Growing up Serious and the Lady

**Disclaimer – **The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

'**Parseltongue**'

'_Aviantongue'_

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

**Lost Time**

**Chapter 9**

**Growing up Serious and the Lady's formal education.**

* * *

Harry jumped out of the window of the Nursery room in the Burrow with an enthusiasm he hadn't felt for years, figuratively of course. Mid leap Harry apparated out of sight quickly. Reappearing in a similar position, nearly thirteen feet off the ground, he curled up into a ball, rolling to avoid breaking something. Unfortunately, when he'd apparated he hadn't been thinking of a particular destination, thus it was just Harry's luck that he roll right into a tree.

His head aching something fierce Harry got up from his fall. It hadn't been the most intelligent move but it had made him feel so _alive_. The rush of being in the air just that second longer than gravity should allow made him feel like he was flying again. To be honest it was tempting to just run and leap again. Harry firmly kept his feet on the ground as he began to look over his surroundings.

Harry's sense of global positioning told him he was somewhere in Wales again. Immediately Harry found that strange- why was he coming to Wales so unexpectedly? Taking a look around, Harry decided

that here looked good enough for him- yes this would do nicely. Bending down Harry looked around for some sort of stone he could transfigure into what would amount to his home. It was a bit of a task as there wasn't much except snow and leaves- but eventually Harry found one that looked to be about the right texture and material. Quickly muttering the transfiguration spells under his breath, Harry threw the stone away from him. Exploding like a bomb the stone neatly turned into a stone tower which reached above the treeline.

He considered for a moment that it was probably a bit too big for a hiding place, but the thought was dispelled as he began casting his most powerful hiding charms. These would keep anyone who wasn't looking for him away. A few forgetful and diversion spells would keep anyone who _was_ looking for him away. Deciding that the basic wards were set- Harry began to work on the actual building.

First creating a wooden door and then attaching it, Harry looked at the empty inside. This was typical of the transfiguration process as he hadn't specified in the spell that he wanted the inside of the tower to have stairs or even some sort of levelling system. With a long suffering sigh, Harry began his work on the inside of his tower. He'd probably be at this for a while.

* * *

Albus sat in his office, absently looking over several papers he was supposed to have handed into the Board of Governors next Monday. It was all just pointless reports, things he personally thought he shouldn't have to do. Distractedly Albus wondered if he should give this sort of work to Minerva. What his mind was really on was the Last Will and testament of Lily Potter-Evans.

When the Potter's had been attacked he had been overjoyed to see that the Potter boy would be the Saviour he'd been looking for. Anxiety had been taking hold of him ever since he'd found out that that Muggleborn child had been a candidate for the Prophesy too. The possibility that he'd let the child die before he could be carefully harvested had been a weight he did not liked on his shoulders. But with the clear mark on the Potter boy's forehead- now he felt that he could rest assured that his weapon was securely within his grasp.

To add to his delight the Potter's themselves had died, leaving the small boy in _his_ care. Of course they did not put him in his care, as such, but no one was about to challenge his authority over Order member's children. Then there was the pleasant fact that for a time Voldemort was defeated. Albus really needed the time for soldier recruitment. At the time Dumbledore had thought that this prophesy thing was really working out for the better!

What Dumbledore thought now, however, was a little bit more dubious. Yesterday he'd attended the Last Will and Testament of Lily and James Potter, along with several members of the wider public and friends of the Potter's. The results hadn't worked out so well. Lily had quite clearly stated where she wanted Harry to reside after her death, as had James and neither of them wanted Harry to be anywhere near his Aunt and Uncle- the Dursley's. Why she would refuse her kin the rights confused him- but he assumed it was a Muggle thing. To be honest, Lily had also wanted Harry not to go to James' friend and now hero Peter Pettigrew. Why she would want Sirius, the traitorous slime, over Peter, the tragic hero, didn't quite click with him either- he assumed it was because of her silly trust of the traitor.

If it had just been Lily's Will then perhaps he could have ignored it, but it had also been in James' Will that Harry was not to go to his maternal Aunt and Uncle. He'd also clearly written that Sirius' guardianship was total, followed by Remus Lupin and then Peter Pettigrew. Albus understood that James would want his son to live with his Godfather- but a Werewolf? There was the line. James must have been a little bit off in the head along with his kooky Muggleborn wife.

With these two Will's now public knowledge there was no reasonable way that Dumbledore could actually enforce Harry's stay with the Dursley's. Of course a few memory charms and careful manipulations would have been doable if it had been a private reading but as it was there were simply too many people to memory charm, too many people to persuade. Now all he could do was remain silent and memory charm anyone who asked him where Harry was as he'd already done with first Helena, then Remus and lastly Narcissa. This would be a lot more dangerous for Albus' credibility, but with luck no one need ever know, or rather remember knowing.

However it wasn't Harry's placement which most concerned and puzzled Albus, it wasn't even anything written in them- it was more what _wasn't_ written in them. The Absence of any sort of financial information was probably the most disconcerting of the news brought on by yesterday's reading. Where had the Potter fortune gone? There was quite a collection of artefacts the Potter's had too- where were they? What about the large amount of money that James had made in his Quidditch career, or Lily's earnings as a Charms creator and expert? They'd both been clearly wealthy but neither of their Will's stated where their money was to go to.

Albus also noticed that no Lord was named after James to hold place between his and Harry's reigns as Lord Potter. Most families included a trusted friend to take up the mantle of Lord, if not the actual power, between the deceased Lord and the next. Albus, who had watched the Potter's for generations, knew that the Potter family traditionally chose interim Lords in the stead of the real ones. For James not to, either meant he had not taken his Will seriously or he thought the tradition was foolish. Albus didn't see either as particularly plausible given James' actions concerning the Potter wealth and his Lordship. James had been traditional in almost every sense, the almost only because of his less than 'pure' wife. Sitting back from the paperwork, which he was only half doing anyway, Dumbledore's mind began to seriously consider the Potter boy.

What had it been about Harry Potter which had made him so special? He survived the Death Curse for Merlin's sake. Thus far, in Albus' own pursuit of eternal life, he himself had only found a few methods of surviving the curse and none of them seemed likely in Harry's case. There were physical barriers, which included any sort of physical shield which was not attached physically in some way with the one who wished to live. But that didn't make sense- for Harry to have that pretty scar on his head the curse must have made contact, Dumbledore had concluded upon first glance of Harry. Then there was the fact that physical shields did not reflect the curse and therefore could not have defeated Voldemort as it so clearly had.

There were also mirrors. If a mirror was enchanted to reflect with the right spells, and it had to be a naturally reflective surface- not some sort of transfiguration, then it could reflect any spell. And while an Unforgivable was on a somewhat more advanced level of sorcery than the average spell they were still spells and thus unable to resist the effects of mirrors properly enchanted. Again, the curse scar clearly stated that this theory could not be true, though it made some sort of sense regarding the reflection of the curse.

Then there were the lightest of the light spells- bound in the oldest books in the oldest vaults that even Dumbledore had had trouble finding, the books which represented the light side in the same manner that the Necromicon represented the dark side. Within those books were the ultimate shield spells, "The Shields of the Righteous". The shields were able to deflect the Unforgivable Curses in theory- but no-one had ever successfully cast these spells and thus they were unusable and out of the question. And anyway- if Lily had cast the shield she should be alive still, shouldn't she?

No- there was something to the boy that he could not explain which had saved him from Voldemort. If only Albus could take it for his own and use it. He would be truly great, greater than the mere child could himself be. Perhaps this was the way that Voldemort would be defeated? He could take the child's magic and use it against the Dark Lord? The Prophesy never said that Harry would be the one to use the Power. Albus grinned maniacally. That Grin was soon wiped clean as his jaw went slack and drool began to come from his mouth, oozing down his chin and onto his bizarre robes.

A pair of glowing inhuman green orbs watched from the shadows, silently reprogramming the Headmaster's memories to something more appropriate...

* * *

…. No- there was something to the boy that he could not explain which had saved him from Voldemort. He would have to train that, to build it up, to make it great and one day he would learn it and take it for himself. He would wield this great and awesome power that the boy must have.

With a nod the now muted and indistinguishable green orbs watched on as Albus plotted his many ill-conceived plots. How those green orbs wished they had been assigned an easier job, this moron that had to be reprogrammed every three days to suit his greater purposes. Damn those oracles and their damnable 'purposes'. Green eyes rolled as they watched Albus go around and around the same- beaten, marked and worn- mental track. What a moron. Blue hands played idly with white wings as green eyes watched on wearily.

* * *

Fawkes watched the Headmaster from his cage concealed on one of the bookcases which lined the room with not a little disdain. He had been trapped here like a sick trophy since this degenerate called a Hogwarts Headmaster had found him weak and alone within the ashes of Godric Hollow. If only that night had not been a burning day for Fawkes. As it was there was little to no hope for the poor bird to escape any time soon or even to get word to Harry about his more precarious state.

Fawkes understood, from years of talking to Harry, what he must now have been forced to go through already. He worried about what this time could have done to the boy, especially as he now knew Dumbledore had sent him off to live with those filthy humans Harry had so clearly described as monsters. If only Fawkes could leave his prison.

You see, there were only a few things which a Phoenix could not transport through magically and Dumbledore had somehow discovered this during Fawkes' time away with Harry. It had to do with a Phoenix's elemental abilities. Fawkes, for instance, was a fire Phoenix and could be easily trapped by water, or in this case a cage of water, because of its opposing nature to his method of transport. It was a major problem with the Light and Dark Phoenix's that they could not travel magically through Night and Day respectively and now Fawkes had to deal with much the same problem.

Fawkes knew of only one method to get around this cage of water and to do that he would need the help of a green eyed boy who at that moment was spending the time creating a new home somewhere in Whales. For now Fawkes would just have to wait for Harry to come and save him from this hell. Phoenix tears sprung from his eyes as he thought

* * *

**15 monthslater- May 1983**

Harry sat in his tower, idly entertaining himself with what he'd once called 'cat and rat'. It was a game he'd developed as the years had passed on which allowed him to use his various skills while giving him a form of entertainment which was sadistic to say the least. Basically it involved two random animals, one the prey- one the predator, a maze, filled with various obstacles and puzzles, and finally Harry's own unique skill set.

Essentially Harry would first shrink the creature down to about the size of a rabbit if they were any larger, and then release the animals, from different points, into the maze, allowing the animals to run and chase after one another in their mini versions. To continue through the maze, which Harry created with transfiguration, the animals would find several obstacles such as illusions, mouse traps, and other 'things' which Harry created on the spot to increase the challenge to himself. So far the most successful had been an illusion Harry himself had come across so many, many years ago in the third task of his fourth year- walking on the ceiling. Several animals had found it unbearable.

If they succeeded past enough obstructions Harry would allow the predator to meet the prey. After chasing down the prey, to prevent the death of either animal, Harry would then switch their minds around cruelly, usually making the predator run away while the prey began chasing them. Eventually, however- the prey would realise he was prey and the predator would realise they were the predator and they'd turn around and begin chasing each other again. Harry knew it was sadistic, cruel and heartless but it kept him in various practices while giving him a strange sense of satisfaction to know that _he_ wasn't the one being toyed with, to know that _he_ could do that.

The idea had come to Harry, somewhat cruelly, as a relation to his own circumstances. At the time, he had been the prey- the weaker animal and this game had appealed to his darker side. But lately, it had become less and less fulfilling, coming to the crawl of mild interest. Maybe it was because of the animals he was using, Harry had wondered a few times.

Usually he chose non-magical and uncomplicated animals; field mice, smallish looking cats, snakes, reptiles, frogs and such. Nothing particular hard to play with mentally or anything that could fly. The problems with these animals were that they just weren't that interesting and Harry had learnt to predict animal behaviour when he put them in certain circumstances. As long as he knew what their reactions should be when he messed with them he couldn't find anything thrilling about the game.

Discarding the game Harry stood up and left the room, the snake and the frog currently in the maze frozen for future use by impedimenta charms. His tower was much too large for Harry alone, he'd come to see as he'd built the ugly thing. He'd actually been forced to shrink the insides of it as the large spaces made living in the cold stone tower almost below zero constantly. As it was now it was considerably cosier but none the less too large.

Harry pondered what he should do as he walked down the circular steps which went from the attic to the ground floor of the tower. For the past two years Harry had been alone in his too big tower, eating Mrs. Weasley's food eagerly as the twins sent it to him, sending messages to his best mate and friends, and trying half heartedly to re-train himself in his various talents.

He was only training half heartedly because to be honest he wasn't sure if he wanted to be super trained. With various things happening Harry just didn't think he was ready to be a trained wizard again. Would it even be the same world? Would the same things happen again? Even in his head these excuses sounded less than adequate.

The cold hard truth was that Harry wasn't sure he wanted to ruin what could be a perfectly fine childhood in order to protect a distant world that may not even happen. It was shameful and selfish but it was the truth, this was his chance. With Sirius soon to be out of prison he could have a childhood worth remembering, a life worth living. This was his chance at a normal loving home.

Deciding he wanted to go walking to think for a while, Harry began his preparations to leave. Layering on spells wordlessly Harry eliminated his scent, disillusioning himself and casting multiple charms which hid various types of tracks. By now it was almost second nature- but to begin with Harry had had to learn the hard way exactly how important it was to be prepared when leaving his hideout and the small warded area around them.

He'd made the mistake of leaving his safe haven without any form of cover- no disillusion charms, no nothing. In the end he'd been found by a pack of wolves and had to run for his life before he finally wised up and just apparated home. Unfortunately he'd forgotten the momentum from running and consequently slammed face first into the stone, if transfigured, wall. From that day on he'd remembered to go out with certain… precautions. Locking the door behind him, just in case some random thing found the tower, Harry began to take his walk in silence.

It was just as he was asking himself for the umpteenth time wether he should give up his childhood that he heard a loud screeching sound from the sky, which Harry interpreted (with the help of his lessons from Fawkes) as a hunting call and a frantic squeak from the ground. Looking around Harry saw that the source of the screech was what looked to be an owl of some sort and the squeak had been from what looked to be a rat. A rat with an index toe missing from his right paw. Peter.

Quickly Harry scooped him up.

'_This one is mine'_ Came out as a high pitched shriek of victory. There was answering screech of disappointment but the bird, whatever species it was, left quickly. "Oh, aren't you an adorable little Rat- I think I'll call you _Scabbers_" Harry smiled in satisfaction as Wormtail looked at him in confusion before trying to make a run of it. Luckily Harry's hands were quicker and he managed to grab Peter's tail before he could run away. "That's a naughty Scabbers. It's time we went _home_". Harry quickly apparated back to his tower and put Peter in the maze. "Scabbers has been a bad rat". Needless to say Harry found a new, if unwilling, participant for "Cat and Rat"

* * *

Harry sat in his bed, transfigured from wolf-skin he'd collected after killing one; staring at the ceiling he knew Peter was through. How had the rat become the way he was? Where were the signposts which marked someone as evil? Harry didn't know and he hadn't found out from the rat's mind. Harry doubted he'd ever know.

After almost a week of 'playing' with Wormtail in various forms of mental torture, Harry began to wonder exactly what was _in_ the worm's mind. He'd known the man while he was still in school, of course, and he'd occasionally looked through it half-heartedly then- but what had Wormtail learnt after school? What did he know of Voldemort and the Dark Arts? Those had been the questions which had led Harry to first try and enter the man's mind for information. What he'd found was slightly different to what he'd expected.

Harry shifted in his bed, looking away from the ceiling to favour the window which showed the moon outside. It wasn't a full moon, but it still lit the night sky up with its silver glow. Harry had liked the moon- a long time ago. When he was a child- the way it reflected the sun's light had made him feel like he wasn't the only one who'd have to be second best forever. But for years he'd hated it.

The moon could give you away if you weren't paying attention to it. He'd been spotted several times by the locals of various towns when moonlight had spotted him. It shone like half truth's spread across the night skies, dulling the stars and hogging the night's attention. But even before then it had taken away his chances to live with Sirius in a loving home. He'd privately cursed the moon ever since.

Harry turned away again, his mind inexplicably drawn to Peter again, who was just meters away from himself. How he wished he hadn't gone into Peter's mind that he'd just been happy to mess around with the rat and send him off to the Weasley's. But no- he'd gone in and now he had to live with the consequences.

The first thing he'd done, as any Legilimens did when exploring a mind for the first time, was take in his surroundings. Dark memories and darker intentions had lurked mysteriously around the edges of the mindscape. A menacing dark fog had hung unpleasantly in the air. Looking it over with a critical eye, Harry assumed it was a guard dog of some sort. He simply ignored it and it didn't bother him- some guard dog that was. Perhaps it was meant to guard the little cottage off in the distance?

The air had smelt horrible, it had been acrid and it stung his nose to breathe it in. Harry still remembered how much his nose had stung at first. Deciding his surroundings had been far too hostile; Harry had envisioned a bubble encompassing his entire body made out of a dull green light. It was an advanced technique that Harry had learnt in Germany that could protect you from mental invasions while in the mindscape.

Stalking away from the smog Harry made his way towards the cottage. It was a dark brown colour with dying shrivelled potted plants lying around haphazardly- like there had recently been a scuffle of some sort, Harry didn't like the look of that. Maybe another Legilimens had already come through here? But who would? Harry couldn't think of anyone unless Voldemort had paid a few visits personally. Seeing the front door Harry pushed it open with a nudge from his foot. It squeaked ominously.

The inside wasn't much better than the outside. The walls were draped with a dirty maroon coloured curtains, making the room dark and ominous. Sickly yellow carpets and tarnished gold walls made the room distinctly Gryffindor gone wrong. Why would Wormtail decorate his mind like this? Did he do this intentionally or was this how it had developed over the years of service to the Dark Lord? Was this how he viewed himself, as a dirty Gryffindor?

Looking around he found what he was looking for, the small- overweight- dirty man in a large overstuffed chair which distinctly looked like one of the ones from the Gryffindor common room. His hair was straggly and mousy, his face rattish and elongated and his clothes were torn and worn down, almost threadbare. His eyes were sightless as he stared into eternity, completely unaware of Harry in his mind. Harry reached out and grabbed a hold of his fat throat and gave it a squeeze. Harry almost felt pity, but not quite. Pity had been what had let Peter get away on the same night Sirius had fled for a year. Pity had been what had let the traitor resurrect his master; pity had let the traitor kill Remus. Harry refused to pity the fool who had destroyed his life so many times. He slowly removed his hand from Wormtail's throat.

It would have been so easy, Harry realised. It would have been so easy to squeeze the life out of him. To send him back blubbering to the Ministry or Death Eaters. To even cut his physical head off and send it to the Minister of Magic and let _him_ stew over it. It would have been so easy to merely kill him and be done with it. But Harry's hand had stayed from the action. To save an innocent man he had to send the guilty one to prison first.

"Peter, Wormtail, Traitor. You've been a very bad Rat- tell me your secrets" Reaching his hand into Peter's forehead he began to search through the man's consciousness, to see and feel and think and hear things which weren't quite real to him. They were foreign memories of life as they had been for this traitor. They told him everything about the man's life and nothing at all. To Harry it was a jumble of these… things which had no meaning. None of it meant anything. They had no purpose to him, they shared no interest.

Well- that is until one face came up. One Harry wanted to know everything about. It was the face of Lord Voldemort in all his eerie glory. Harry began cutting his search down to the emotions, feeling and images which involved Him. Slowly the information became more useful and relevant while again less interesting.

Most of this stuff he'd already learnt. Wormtail wasn't in the inner circle and thus didn't have any particular power within the Death Eater circles outside of the fact that they all were aware that he was a spy who worked on the Order of the Phoenix and the Potter's. That was something, but not really enough to get any vital information. Especially among the smarter Death Eaters who knew important information- most of them could see that spy's who spied on friends could easily turn on them too. No- Wormtail hadn't gotten any really useful information.

Harry began to get impatient. The man seriously knew nothing. There were rumours of course; stuff Voldemort didn't want his subordinates to know but that the looser tongued of the Death Eaters talked about anyway. Rumours about Voldemort's true heritage and his less than stellar upbringing. But it wasn't that interesting on the whole and there hadn't been anything he didn't already know.

Leaving the shitty little man's conscious mind Harry got up to leave when he noticed the awkward, glassy eyed rat in the corner of the room. Looking over the sad thing, Harry noticed there were several things that seemed out of place with it. Immediately, the first thing to come to mind had been that this was the mental representation of Peter's animagus powers. But it was odd, the way the rat was represented in this mind.

Most Animagi actually turned into their chosen animal when they were physically changed. Still others managed to keep their mind in that shape for the rest of their lives. But Harry had never heard of the animal and the human in the same mind at the same time. It was just strange and unusual. Then there was the fact that the rat didn't have Wormtail's distinct markings like the missing fore toe on its front right paw. The hair colour was even different, an indistinct whitish colour rather than Peter's mousy brown colour.

There was also the glassy, wide eyed look it had about it. Animagi were only Animagi if they could transform while keeping their human minds, otherwise they were humans transformed into animals and needed to be transformed back by a third party. If that was true why had Peter and the rat been separate entirely mentally? These questions had plagued Harry as he looked at the Rat in front of him. There was something unnatural about Peter's Animagus ability.

Looking around at the stained Gryffindor colours Harry decided that Peter's mind was entirely too much like Gryffindor for a traitor. He immediately started vanishing the dirty colours, leaving the room bare from all but the wooden floorboards and a wooden chair that he put the traitor in. This suited him much better, a mentally barren decrepit man sitting in his crumbling abode.

"Good Luck Peter" Leaving the shack Harry decided to look around outside and possibly look through those clouds of smog. But before he reached the smog, Harry saw something else, something a lot more interesting.

Harry put his face in his hands as he remembered what he'd done, what he'd foolishly done. He should have thought it through, he should have stopped acting like the stupid Gryffindor and started acting like the hunted adult he'd become long ago. Harry didn't like to admit it but he was acting more like the stereotypical stupid Gryffindor than he had ever liked to admit. And now the memory of his brashness haunted him.

There, on the very fringes of the man's mind- behind where Harry himself had come into the mindscape, was a large green hovering Dark Mark. It stood out against the dirty brown ground and the smoky sky around it like green moss and fungi, its colour bright and its sheen revolting. That sickening mark Harry still remembered vividly as if it floated in front of his very eyes still. How had Harry missed this when he'd first entered Wormtail's mind? Harry still didn't know- but he wished he'd simply never seen it… well now at least.

"Well, well, well- Tommie boy leaves his mark on more than flesh- eh?" Harry had said arrogantly- like he wasn't a three year old at the time. Harry hadn't been as surprised as he should have been. With what he'd seen of the Dark mark he'd already guessed that something more than a curse tattoo on the wrist marked Voldemort's followers. This was only more proof to what Harry already knew.

But to actually infiltrate the mind of a follower with a charm was… to say the least _complex_ Dark Magic. Stuff you wouldn't be able to do without _years_ of extensive training in the Darkest of Arts and an even more intense potential. Harry suspected that maybe there were thirteen people world wide that were alive at this time that could do that- but what more could you expect from the self styled Darkest Lord of the last few centuries. He _was_ working off of over 40 year's experience.

"Let's see if there's nothing we can do with this- eh Tommie boy? What can we do with you?" Paying his closest attention to the large, green, lolling, _slimy_ tongue- Harry had had an idea.

'**What are you doing here?' **Harry asked in Parseltongue. The snake didn't respond. Harry had sighed, it would have been so much easier if that had worked and he'd been able to somehow talk to it but then it had looked like an inanimate object within the mindscape. That just made it harder to play with. Brashly Harry had reached out, grabbing the glowing green, slimy, tongue. Too late he remembered that this was not an inanimate object but rather a link between master and servant.

You see, the problem with the mindscape, in a general sort of way, is that all things are connected in a very distant, general, way. Because of this when one 'physically' (and that is used very loosely) interacts with something on the mindscape information is exchanged at rapid paces. One instance of this is when a Legilimens touches a person's representation of consciousness within the mindscape without mentally protecting themselves first. The Legilimens is sucked into the first person's consciousness where they experience life through the senses of the person they're intruding on.

This rule pretty much works the same way for everything in the mindscape except for inanimate objects such as houses, buildings, furniture or rocks- imaginary things that were created within the Mindscape and are not representations of real things. But if that inanimate object is a representation of something then you can expect to be sucked into that something. Thus- when Harry touched the floating green Dark mark he was sucked into the connection between servant and master.

And that would have been fine too, if it hadn't been for the connection Harry had already had. He would have merely seen, with some mental agony as well, Voldemort or some other servant of the Dark lord. But within Harry's own mindscape there was a connection which physically manifested itself through one lightning bolt scar. So, in a flash of black and green light; Harry was sent careening back to his own mindscape where he brought back with him one huge Dark Mark. Harry was only left to stare as, within his own mindscape, the Dark Mark and the Curse Scar united, forming a singular force within Harry's mind- a Silver Serpent. The same Silver Serpent Harry had at one time observed on the arm of the most evil of Dark Lords.

"What have I done" Harry moaned into his pillow as he was tormented with his own memories. Even with weeks of testing Harry had still yet to determine exactly what he should do with the Silver Serpent which sat in his mind to this very day, weeks after it had first appeared. It did not infect his mind, it did not spread maliciously, and it did not even try to somehow overpower Harry- it merely sat, benignly, in frozen silence- unmoving. To be honest Harry was still at a loss as for what to do with the thing.

After awhile, he had begun to theorise that perhaps it would act as a super-link to Voldemort- but when he'd tried to follow up with that disturbing theory he'd been barricaded- Lord Voldemort had been inaccessible through this new curse. After realising that he was not about to see Voldemort, Harry had wanted nothing to do with the… thing. If it could not be used to his advantage then what was the point of the… fixture?

Luckily, and most importantly for Harry, it had not gone on to physically mark Harry as his lightning bolt curse scar still did. He'd spent hours checking every inch of his body for some damning mark which would show that he had the Silver Serpent fixed in his mind but he'd eventually remarked that no such mark existed and for the moment he was safe.

Harry still had the little problem of telling his friends. He simply hadn't wanted to write it down and tell them he had another weirdo thing wrong with him. There was already so much that he had _neglected_ to tell them. The Wyatt family, the curse marks, those disturbing dreams, watching his mother die, the magic, Lord of Black- Lord of Potter. There simply hadn't been enough time to tell them in the short moments he'd had with them and writing it down would just make it so much _realer-_ if that was even a word

To be honest he didn't want to tell them. Would they even understand that _he_, not their enemy Voldemort, was the heir of Slytherin, Slyth and the Luther Line? Harry didn't want to test them.

Deep down he knew that he couldn't keep it from them forever, that his secret's would come out and hurt them, all of the,. Deep down he knew he was underestimating his best friends, that he was undermining their trust in him. But he just wanted to keep them for a while, give them time to settle back into their normal lives before he dumped this on them like he'd dumped his other problems on them before. He'd tell them eventually…

One thing was certain now. He no longer had any reasons to keep Peter longer than he already had had. Wormtail needed to be sent to Azkaban and he needed to release Sirius from his prison of suffering. With any luck he would see Sirius again and everything would be like it should have been once upon a time when the moon had ruined everything. With that sad thought Harry drifted into fitful sleep of haunting moons and a dog's mournful howl.

Unbeknown to Harry life would not be like he'd once imagined it that fateful night so long ago in a world that no longer existed. Things had already changed irrevocably for that world to exist. So many factors which could not have been in place before were now in place and they were brewing for a war. Mars shone brightly that night.

* * *

**14 July- Somewhere in Wales**

Harry began working on his last compulsion and possibly the most critical of all the ones he had created that day. It was the compulsion to tell the truth and be threatening. If Wormtail just turned up and decided to lie- saying he wasn't the secret keeper that would be all it would take for Sirius to stay locked up forever without a hope in Azkaban. No- the only way Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would believe that Wormtail had been the secret keeper for that one day before his family had been heartlessly murdered would be if he pointed his wand at them and tried something.

That's not to say that Harry would allow for him to cast the killing curse or likewise deadly curses at the Weasley clan- he wasn't completely stupid. He would merely turn off the ability to cast seriously dark or lethal curses. He already had made and fashioned that particular compulsion in Wormtail's mind. If he tried to harm someone with a lethal spell or even a benign spell he would feel an intense burning in his wand arm.

Harry sat, legs crossed, in a courtyard he had fashioned from German and Japanese courtyards. Those were the places Harry had first learnt to properly build his mental defences. It wasn't exactly how he remembered either of them to be- the sky in the Japanese one had been an azure and the building had been much more delicate while in the German version their had been no plants, gravel or stepping stones- but Harry found this to be much more calming and secure than either one had been. There was also the fact that it was in a subterranean vault deep within his mind- but you could hardly tell that.

When Harry had at first learnt to secure his mind he'd started with the British, weak, version which pretty much involved a fence which barricaded anyone out with various forms of 'guard dog's and layers between thick concrete barriers. This served to do pretty much nothing in the greater scheme of things but it had been how his Headmaster, Dumbledore, had said to protect his mind so he'd done it that way. The problem with the British 'form', if you could call it that, was that anyone skilled enough to actually appear in the mindscape (pretty much anyone who didn't have to use that ridiculous '_Legilimens_' spell) could jump or even fly over the defences, landing neatly where you couldn't defend against them and then they could do whatever it was they were here for. Not a very smart defence.

A year later, after many sleepless nights in which he'd been unable to stop Voldemort from mind raping him, he'd turned to a German master Occlumens who had offered to help Harry in his defences of his mind. The German method meant that you built these huge metal domes, which you reinforced with magic, to keep your enemies out. It kept someone who was using the spell out but it could be brought down eventually if you weren't smart enough to reinforce properly. Harry had found much, _much_ more success with this version but even then it required constant ordering of memories and untangling processes which could take hours upon hours to do properly. Harry had found it draining but had been grateful to Mr. Eisenhower for helping him.

Then, during one trip to the Orient, Harry had been caught maintaining his Occlumens shield by a maid of a magical inn Harry was staying in. She'd quickly ran off and told her employer and he'd come to Harry, enquiring after what he was doing. He'd guardedly told him that he was practicing Occlumency which had only confused him more. Eventually Harry had come to learn that in Japan almost all students of the 'masters' (to this day Harry did not now what that was meant to mean) learnt to focus and protect their minds around the age of seven. Harry had been floored, telling the inn keeper that the effort drained him so and that children couldn't do it. So the innkeeper had sat down with him and begun teaching Harry the basics of the Eastern method.

Their method relied on the principals that, for one, what one did not know one could not tell and, for two, that there was an infinite space in the mindscape and that any person could use as much of it as he chose to. Under a form of discipline students were taught to systematically 'forget' their memories and hide them in underground vaults, causing memories to simply not appear to be there for anyone who looked for them on the mindscape. It leant credence to the idea of what lies beneath the surface.

So Harry had left his above ground the way it had been and focused on removing all of his memories into below ground caverns that he created to look something like places in the real world. It had taken weeks, especially with Voldemort still attacking the outside of his German defence, but he'd managed to do it a lot quicker than the inn keeper had said he should be able to do it.

Once he'd moved his memories underground the inn keeper had suggested he do something else with his German defences which had greatly lessened the amount of time Harry had to work on maintaining it. With the inn keeper's help he'd set up guard dogs which bit and mangled trespassers once they showed that they were trying to enter and then repaired the parts of the shield that they had managed to get to. Unfortunately before he and the innkeeper could devise more intrinsic defence mechanisms, he'd had to leave as Voldemort's spies had been spotted in the area. But after those weeks spent with that inn keeper Harry had almost never had problems with mental attacks again.

Once he'd been born, or rather reborn, though, Harry had felt that his mind was far too unusual for that of a baby as he'd been playing. Simply put it was impossible that a baby, a child such as he was, could have the sort of defences that he had without years of training and work. So he'd taken on a new line of defences and buried his previous ones, literally, under mountains upon mountains of conjured dirt.

In order to maintain the guise of a mere baby Harry had allowed certain memories to float, disorganised and unconnected, above his dirt mound where a normal person kept his/her memories.

It had taken the better part of a year but Harry had hidden his defences so well that to the everyday Legilimens he was just a baby with a disorganised mind like any other. Unfortunately, to make it as authentic as it could be made, he'd had to leave some very disorganised and confusing memories without any structure or form above surface.

He did have a roughly fashioned represented 'consciousness', but nothing like he truly had under surface and it didn't react like a normal one should. Harry still hadn't worked out a way to fix that.

Harry's focus on the compulsion wavered and the so far neatly woven compulsion fell apart in Harry's hands, quickly dissipating into the mindscape. Cursing, Harry's mind quickly turned fully onto the task at hand. The crafting of a compulsion was something Harry had only learnt after Remus' death when Tonks subsequently joined him. It was one of those things she'd taught him because they were both so alone and nervous at the time.

As far as she was concerned at the time, Harry now knew, teaching and working with him was the only thing keeping her going and compulsions had been one of the first things she had taught him. Right before they started working on Harry's weakened metamorphmagus ability and she'd told him about how she and Remus had worked out the Lycan transformations. She'd taught him much like she'd been taught as an Auror (more for the defensive and theoretical at the time than for actual use) and used Moody like tones and gestures to convey her points. It all had to do with convincing the target mind into doing something.

The first step, for anyone wanting to make a _thorough_ compulsion, was to go into the target mind and work out what drove them to do things. This process was extremely intimate and dangerous as it often took quite a long time to figure out what it was that drove people to do things. For example- Peter did things because he was afraid of something or he wanted to be recognised as being 'with the big guys'. He wanted to be with the most powerful people because he wanted to be babied and protected. So to make him go to the Weasley's Harry had constructed a phantom Padfoot and an Owl which both 'chased' him towards the Burrow where he was expecting to be protected from wild animals. To him, in that compulsion, the Weasley's were the numbers he needed to be protected properly from phantom aggressors.

The next step was, once you'd first found out the driving forces behind actions, that you had to go and weave these into excuses and then fake memories. Now that was where things got trickier. You had to draw out the memories you wanted to put together into the compulsions with fake thoughts and weave them around each other carefully, focussing on what each memory and thought was meant to do and then who it was meant to go to. If you lost your concentration the parts fell apart and were absorbed back into the mindscape like evaporating alcohol.

Once you'd finished, as Harry was just about to be very shortly, you took the compulsion and kind of put it in the mindscape of whoever it was that you were compelling. It wasn't an exact science of where to put it and really it didn't matter, but the closer to the conscious the stronger it was supposed to be by British theory. Once you had placed the compulsion in it spread to where it would be of most use (as most things generally did in the mindscape) and that was that- they should do what you want.

Of course that wasn't the only way to weave a compulsion- it was the most effective on the long run but it took far too much time if you were in a hurry. Harry knew several of the compulsion methods but by far not all of them. Apparently there were ways to even make them with potions. Harry shuddered at the thought of Snape making one.

Taking a hold of the compulsions he'd already made today, Harry left the mindscape and opened his eyes in the real, more accurately physical, world. Careful to maintain a hold of them mentally he slowly stood up and left his bedroom, climbing the stairs to the upper floor to see Wormtail.

Harry had removed Peter from the maze in case that snake did actually eat him and had placed him in a separate metal cage where he was held down with restraints. The most significant of these was the piece of string which was tied around his throat. Harry had reinforced it with magical spells in front of Wormtail to let him think that if he tried to transform with it around his neck it would decapitate him. What the rat didn't know was that it was specifically spelled beforehand not to cut flesh and would instead sink through the outer layers of skin and flesh, taking a hold of his upper spinal cord, disabling him properly. Harry would not let Peter escape his Azkaban sentence with something as pleasant as Death.

Looking eye to eye at Peter, Harry entered the traitors mind with less effort than he took to breathe. There was the stinking fog and acrid air. Harry hated this mind with so much vigour that he just wanted to leave it- but instead he refrained, making his way towards the cottage, compulsions struggling in his hand.

Making it to the front door Harry opened it to look at Peter with open disgust as he sat in his wooden chair completely devoid of comprehension. How could the filthy man not realise that his mind was being infiltrated. Was he that magically weak that he could not even enter the mindscape? Harry wouldn't be surprised if he was not. Walking up next to him and conjuring a seat Harry let go of his compulsions as he sat down, watching the silver sheets of… well- stuff float around for a second before almost all of them shot towards Peter, capturing him in a tangle of sheets and spinning around him eventually actually absorbing into him.

One of them though, one Harry recognised as the one which asked for truth and threatening was clearly being torn between two places. Watching on in shock Harry watched as it ripped in two and one half flew at Peter like the others while the first turned and leapt _through _the door. Quickly exiting the cottage Harry made to follow it when he realised where it was going with dread- The Dark Mark.

Making a desperate dash for it he was too late and was left to watch as the sheet was absorbed into the dark mark with a resounding hissing. _Oh no, _Harry thought quietly to himself as the mark began changing colours for a short moment before returning to normal. For an instant it looked like nothing was going to happen and everything would be fine. That instant ended as Harry was blasted, not unlike the first time he'd come to this mind, back to his own mind, to a particular part of his mind which held a certain Silver Serpent.

_Not again, _Harry thought somewhat comically. Harry couldn't help but stare again as the silver sheet jumped out of him and into the snake, absorbing much like the other compulsions had done with Wormtail. With a hissing sound the Snake began to writhe and hiss furiously, turning an angry scarlet before shifting with a more sedate whisper to a shining gold. After switching colours Harry watched to see what it would do now, almost hoping it would attack him so he could beat it down. He was disappointed to see it do nothing obviously hostile.

Deciding that going into the traitor's mind was not a good idea and perhaps he didn't want to do it again, ever, Harry returned to the physical world dubiously to see a very nervous Rat struggling against his constraints. Harry imagined it might have something to do with that big black dog and the hungry owl that were chasing after him threateningly? Harry snickered on the inside.

"No such luck, Peter. Just one more stop and you're off to your new rightful home- but first thing first, Wormtail, lets not get ahead of ourselves, shall we. I am Lord Potter, I am Lord Wyatt, I am Lord Black and I sentence you to serve a life sentence within the walls of Azkaban. So be it." The Rat began squirming madly before Harry turned his open palm towards it, making it stop stock still. "_Obliviate_" And with that gesture and that word, Peter Pettigrew forgot the last three months of his life.

* * *

Harry was standing alone, a little lost boy who no one was paying attention to as he stood on the Muggle docks. Harry knew what he was waiting for, he knew who he was waiting for- but no one asked him because no one would see him unless he wanted them to. Especially not the wizards who were bringing back a torn, innocent, man they had wrongfully locked up in the worse cells of the worse prison on earth. Though that wasn't necessarily true as several international prisons were worse, but it was still right up there with Deniskall and Afrisnan.

Far off Harry started to see the vague outline of a small, dingy, boat that looked rickety and unseaworthy as it flew, quite literally, towards the _Muggle_ docks. How the idiot Aurors had managed to get it all the way out to Azkaban Isle was nothing short of magic. Harry smirked somewhat solemnly. Only the driest of jokes were getting through to Harry in the mood he was in right now. But seriously- didn't they have some sort of Magical docks they could use instead?

About a week ago Harry had found out from a certain bag, which sent messages nicely between friends, that Peter had been caught and Harry was all set to pick up Sirius. Unfortunately, Ron- for Harry had been able to tell from the handwriting- had forgotten to tell him when or even where to pick Sirius up. When Harry had asked, the Weasley's had been embarrassed to say that no one had known exactly when he would be released but they did know a general area where he should be let out. It wasn't until he'd illegally entered the Ministry via apparition and actually stolen the information that he'd learnt the time and place for the drop off. It had been a test in and of itself to get past the Ministry's mediocre wards unseen without laughing out loud.

Harry had still been in a bit of a dilemma about wether or not to actually go and meet Sirius. Really- how do you explain a three year old coming to pick up his godfather he shouldn't remember? It was giving away his abilities a bit early; that's for sure. He still didn't actually know what he would say. 'High Sirius, I'm Harry- your godson' didn't sound too bad to Harry right about now.

Finally the stupid boat pulled up and the Auror's helped a painfully thin and desperate looking Sirius up out of the boat and onto the docks. In a fit of rage, Harry stepped forward as the Aurors all but threw Sirius, an _innocent_ man, onto the dock and began climbing out of their dingy little boat. He was sorely tempted to simply blast them away with spells but as it was they were in a Muggle area and such an action would have been potentially dangerous anyway to Harry.

"I'll take him from here lads" Cursing internally at the state of Sirius' limp form, Harry muttered an obliviate at the two now forgetfull men and took hold of Sirius before apparating away using the side-along method which really takes it out of a kid. With a pop they arrived at a dreary Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Harry had carefully planned out the next series of events. Harry knew there was a certain level of control he could impose over the Black family so for the moment this was in fact the safest place for him. It also had the added bonus of minimising the changes he caused in the timeline if he could control them properly. There was only one other place Harry could think he would have this amount of control but the Wyatt family was still a bit of a mystery to him and it would give away too much to Sirius if they just appeared in the Wyatt family Mansion- wherever that was.

There was a screech as someone from upstairs began screaming at Kreacher. When had Mrs. Black died again? Harry had seen Mrs. Black's death date but for some reason he'd forgotten to even consider she might still be alive in this time. Distantly he remembered it was around 1995. Her voice was certainly loud enough to show her ample health in this timeline. Harry understood he'd end up probably using some sort of threat to maintain Mrs. Black's loyalty or at very least some sort of Legilimency, Harry readied himself for it.

A pop, knocking him out of his careful calm, told Harry that the House Elf had arrived- great.

"Who are you?" the nasty little thing all but spat at Harry, giving him a filthy look as he spoke with what looked like disdain. Harry felt a deep level of hate for the little monster that had killed Sirius, half-heartedly he considered if he could use house-elves for 'Cat and Rat'. He discarded the idea as soon as he thought about Hermione's horrified face.

"Tell Mrs. Black that her Lord has arrived with her son."

"Kreacher doesn't lie to his mistress" This time he did spit at Harry, albeit through spittle rather than a single glob of the foul stuff. Wiping his face with the back of his hand Harry gave him a stern look.

"I am Lord Black and you will do as you're told!" This time Harry felt the direct order play on Kreacher and before he could stop it Kreacher was forced to apparate away in what Harry assumed was a painful manner. He felt somehow better after that, waiting for Mrs. Black to come down the stairs he laid Sirius down carefully and looked around.

He was standing in the entrance hall and it was as it had been when he'd last been here, if just a little bit dirtier and darker. It had been like this just before the Order had been blown to smithereens. With the secret keeper dead the charm had fallen apart almost instantly. There wasn't much hope for the Order without a headquarters, or members for that matter.

"My Lord?" Mrs. Black said in obvious shock from the stairs. Turning Harry looked her right in the eyes, immediately determining that Mrs. Black would be as respectful as needs be with him. It was one of those Lord things, Harry was sure. If he'd been anyone else or not her Lord she would have had him thrown out by his ear and onto the street- along with Sirius. Harry had never had this experience in his last world. by the time he'd become Lord of his families there were only graves to be lord over, but from Tonk's he'd learnt the apparent extents of such power.

"Mrs. Black, a pleasure to meet you. I brought Sirius with me and I thought here, his childhood home, would be best for his recovery from what I can tell you was a draining past few years" To say Mrs. Black was shocked would be an understatement. Her grey streaked hair hung lankly as her jaw simply hit the floor. "Kreacher, take Sirius up to a room, please"

"Yes sir!" Kreacher popped quickly down to Sirius and then they were gone, leaving a three year old Harry and a going on 60 year old Aprus to watch and stare at each other respectively.

"How…"

"We have a few things to discuss, Mrs Black, but I believe it would be best if we were to discuss it later as I am quite tired"

"Of course, let me show you to your room"

"Thank you" Mrs Black turned and began walking up the stairs in shock and something akin to horror. What was happening to her family?

* * *

Harry waited impatiently for the Healers verdict over Sirius in the uncomfortable chair next to Sirius' bedside. They had arrived yesterday afternoon and this morning Mrs. Black had fire called St. Mungo's rather than try to heal her son herself as she did not have the talent or the skill. But whatever this Healer's ability, skill, talent and whatever it was that he clamed he had he was going entirely too slow for Harry's tastes. Couldn't he see Harry was anxious to meet his godfather properly in this world?

Harry's mind flickered briefly to the man lying in the bed next to him rather than the incompetence of the Healer who was trying to treat him. Sirius didn't look like himself at all- or rather what he had looked like the last time Harry had seen him. He was painfully thin, his complexion was waxy and sallow, his hair came down to his shoulders in lank locks of hair which was obviously un-kept and his face looked hollow- bare of everything except emptiness.

For just a few seconds Harry allowed himself to think this was his fault. That if he had somehow caught Wormtail earlier or he'd released him earlier to the Weasley's then this wouldn't have happened and Sirius would be like he was meant to be, like Harry wanted him to be. After those brief seconds Harry turned those thoughts away, things had worked out the way they had and Harry wasn't able to change things right now.

Harry wondered where that advantage had gotten to. Where had the advantage that Hermione had talked about and discussed run away to? He didn't feel like he had some sort of mystical advantage over the other people he'd met. He hadn't had any advantage when Vernon had shattered his eye socket or when Voldemort had shot the death curse at his mother.

Harry was shaken out of his gloomy thoughts as the Healer turned around and began talking to Mrs. Black. Apparently this wasn't supposed to be of particular interest to Harry but Harry listened in anyway.

"He's in a stable condition as of this moment but he has sustained a wide range of problems which are consistent with Azkaban prison conditions. The problems vary from mal-nutrition, to magical strain, exhaustion and mental stability issues which will require a mind Healer to work on him for some time."

"How long?" demanded Mrs. Black.

"I would guess at anything between two months and a year. He's taken Azkaban pretty hard but you should be glad he's come out as well as he has. Some prisoners come out of there in this condition after six months with much worse mental issues and magical instability."

"Will you testify in a lawsuit against the ministry?" Mrs. Black spoke very plainly to the Healer.

"Of course, the fact that he was recently proved innocent makes this all the more damning."

"Thank you. What is your recommended treatment?"

"Well, the immediate treatment that I recommend, if you want him to be his old self when he wakes up, is an induced healing coma. It's probably the most effective way to rebuild his fat and magical stores within his body naturally. It'll also give him time to work through his immediate mental issues in dreaming sleep."

"And this is the best treatment?"

"Yes it is. I can come by and check on him three times a week and restore the potions he's going to need to take and when he wakes up he'll be as good as new physically. It's the mental health issues that I'm more concerned with."

"How much will it cost?"

"It'll cost you twelve galleons an hour between the hours of nine am and five pm and then fifteen outside of those hours. It's our standard home care fee."

"I'm sure that'll be manageable for how long again?"

"About a month, give or take a few weeks given his personal disposition. Coma therapy really depends on the disposition and will of the patient."

"Thank you Healer."

"Not at all, Mrs. Black, I'll be seeing you in a few days" Harry got up and left the room disappointedly as Mrs. Black escorted the healer to the front Hall. It would be a long, long time before Harry would talk to his Godfather.

* * *

Harry sat in an oversized chair in the drawing room of Number Twelve Grimmauld place, alone while the Black family watched him somewhat apprehensively. Harry didn't blame them, of course, he was after all not born a Black and now he was their Lord by magic and title. He could do anything he wanted to them and they couldn't do anything about it. A Lord's word was law within his family, and what they were all wondering was what he would say.

Harry and Aprus had been living together for a week or so, taking care of a very ill and thin looking Sirius, when she'd suggested that he might want to talk to the entire family as their Lord. It was a time honoured tradition of the Black family to hold the all inclusive family meetings and usually even the disowned members of the family were allowed to attend, if only as outcasts. From there that had been that- Aprus had sent out the summons and set the date for Harry to talk, even going so far as to somewhat give him advice on what he should say.

For Aprus, Harry knew, this was all a very strange and almost surreal experience. She'd lived with the Black Family Lord being a king among men and now she was all but nursing the boy who could make her a squib with a look. She felt that Harry was an unnatural child with a mind that shouldn't have been quite so sharp and a tongue that was far too swift. To her Harry was practically walking on water and it was because of that she feared him greatly.

Harry picked this up and for her tried to be a little dumber, a little more civil and all around kinder, but that didn't help the situation as much as it might have. She'd only found it bizarre for her Lord to be so civil and kind. Black Lords were almost never kind men. When Harry had seen that his tactics hadn't shown any immediate change he had just tried to stay out of her way, much as Aprus had tried to stay out of Harry's way. The relationship between Lord and subject was an odd one.

"I think you can all guess who I am from the curse scar on my forehead but I'll humour you and tell you that I am in fact your Lord."

"My Lord, if I might speak?" Narcissa Malfoy's cautious voice spoke over the unnatural hush. It seemed that either no one wanted to say anything in case he took offence or they were desperately trying to keep their mouths shut before they said things they knew they would regret. From Harry's cautious use of Ghosting he found more people in the room wanted to say bad things rather than cared if he was sensitive.

"You may" She stood up among her otherwise seated relatives. Most everyone glared at her except her immediate family (which was reduced to a father and one sister) and the outcasts of the room who were watching their Lord with something akin to terror (which now also included a perhaps 10 year old girl Harry realised was one Nymphadora Tonks).

"I was a friend of your mother's…" There was a hiss from the assembly as almost everyone in the room disapproved of her. A quick glare from Harry silenced them enough so Narcissa could finish. "and I was just wondering exactly what it was that you wanted to talk to us about?" Everyone waited with baited breath as Harry composed his answer carefully.

"To be honest I hadn't planned for this meeting to have any specific agenda except to tell family Black that certain changes will be occurring within this House."

"And what changes are those?" A bashful voice from the back asked. Harry recognised it as one of the terrified Black outcasts.

"For one thing the Death Eaters of this family are going to renounce Voldemort." Several members of the room practically screamed in revolt while several others whispered and shuddered at the name. There were several members of the family which were Death Eaters and the rest of them were in fact staunch supporters of Him.

"Don't say His name!"

"You don't know the magic to make us!" Someone from the back spoke while trying to hide behind his neighbouring relatives. Mentally sighing Harry concentrated, closing his eyes for just a moment before he firmly grasped his connections as Lord to the assembled members of the family, even the disowned ones. Opening his eyes again everyone in the room was stunned to see Harry's eyes become an empty black rather than his previously vibrant green.

This sort of magic Harry knew on a very basic level. He'd learnt several of the different Lord gifts while he was on the run because they opened up Harry's perceptions of other magical beings in ways that only a Lord could experience. Some spells actually could not be cast unless you were a Lord. Harry had never actually used the connections and powers on people like he was at the moment but the theory was all up in his head, ready to be used whenever Harry felt the need.

Harry didn't like this sort of magic though. It was disturbing, the feel of the Black family within his mind, in his blood, apart of him. He knew it shouldn't be but Harry couldn't help but feel the unnaturalness of it. They weren't his family but he felt them, had responsibility over them, like they were. It was an inexplicable feeling to have someone in your head who you knew wasn't meant to be there.

"Yes, I do Cepheus. I can manipulate my connection to any one of you at will. You, along with every other Death Eater in this room, will renounce Voldemort or I will make you a Mudblood and you can join Bellatrix" Flashing before his minds eye Harry felt Bellatrix's current position somewhere in the Sole forests. Ignoring it for the moment Harry paid closer attention on those within the room, his black eyes boring through those in the room. There was a silence in the room as the guilty parties struggled against their Lord's will until finally the first lost the will to fight.

"I, Diphda Yaxley Black, do renounce the Dark Lord" Diphda, a woman that Harry recognised to be married into the families supplies of magic from the Yaxley line, was the first to begin to denounce Voldemort. Harry felt the Golden Serpent within his mind twist pleasantly in response. Quickly Diphda was joined by her husband- the one who had tried to say Harry was stupid.

"I, Cepheus Black, do renounce the Dark Lord"

"I, Cygnus Black Yaxley, do renounce the Dark Lord" For a moment Harry had to think before he quickly came to the conclusion that this woman had married from Black to Yaxley. She wasn't a particularly strong Witch but her genes were strong Black ones due to her father and mother both being Black descendants.

"I, Eridanus Black, do renounce the Dark Lord" The wizard in question was a short thing, not particularly good with any Dark magic but very good with Dark plants. These facts shifted through his mind as each one's green glow of the Dark Mark dimmed to almost nothing. Harry knew a few more steps instinctively, because of his Serpent. The first one was the most significant on the road to removing the Dark mark.

Harry waited patiently for the last in the room to renounce the Dark Lord, for he knew there was another here at very least who had not renounced the Dark Lord. Harry could feel it, the glowing bright green within his mind was a bright light, trying to hide behind mere tissue paper but still unable to hide from Harry's black mind's eye. Focussing, Harry concentrated for a moment before he recalled the name, date of Birth and parentage right back to his great, great grandfather.

"Pollux Black- you must renounce Him"

"I can't"

"You must"

"I won't. You can't break me"

"So be it. As your Lord I disown you. Pollux Black is not a true Black from this moment on." The magic that sealed the bargain flew out of Harry in Black swirls of flame and water with a whooshing sound, hitting Pollux in the chest. "You will be able to call yourself a Black once you renounce the Dark Lord."

"You can't do this to me! Half blood fouls stinking up our family with your mud blood…" Harry silently cast a silencing spell over Pollux to shut him up. He should have made Pollux a Mudblood as he'd threatened but the reality of the act was far too horrible for him to purposely create.

A true Mudblood was a pureblood who had essentially become damned to live as a squib through the breaking of magical oaths. But the real power behind the Mudblood curse was that once someone was turned into a Mudblood it was as irreversible as the oaths that bound them in the first place. It was for that reason that most Lords never invoked the terrible power they held.

It was a common misconception amongst pure-bloods, Harry had learnt from Tonks, that in order to become a Muggleborn you had to have been a Mudblood in either a previous life or through your parents. To them, the change between magical and non-magical, both ways, was a cursed change of dishonour and shame. Harry didn't understand the reasoning but he accepted it as another example of stupid pure-blooded bigotry.

"For another thing I'm going to be making reviews on this Houses' disowned members. If you have been officially or unofficially disowned you will be welcomed to come to me personally and we will discuss your prospects for reintegration with the House. I have nothing else to say."

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy entered the Black ancestral home with some dismay and not a little hope. She'd been in the processes of divorcing her husband since he was caught as a Death Eater not a month ago and potentially ruined the Malfoy name. While Narcissa despised her husband and his wretched family they were the only things which kept her in the life style she had become accustomed to. The chances of her divorce being successful now completely rested on her Lords shoulders.

Her case to her Lord, though he was only three at the time, would be that it would give him a playmate that she would promise would be nice to him. Though the child had shown that he was incredibly talented and smart for his age Narcissa was banking on the principal that boys liked company to make their mischief. Sirius certainly had, and Narcissa had an inkling he would be something like his godfather. It wouldn't be bad for Draco either because there was a chance Harry's brains and talent could rub off on the impressionable boy. She hoped her case would be enough to entice Harry away from considering the enormous amount of money he would lose from the action.

"Kreacher" With a pop the diminutive House Elf arrived with a bow as he was summoned.

"Mistress Malfoy, what may Kreacher do for you?" She looked distastefully at the ragged…thing. She did not care for the animal but she did hold some level of respect for the creature. It was magical after all. Lily, her Lord's mother, had taught Narcissa through painful lessons that all things magical deserved some small level of respect worthy of their personality. Cissa had not forgotten her best friend in the least. She merely hoped that her Lord would be more like his mother than his father.

"I am here to enquire if I might talk to Aunty Aprus and Lord Black."

"Right away Mistress." With another pop the filthy thing was gone. Narcissa looked around herself somewhat disdainfully. She had never liked the house as much as the people that had lived here as she had grown up.

Her father and her father's cousin, the Lord Black, had lived together in this house for some time before their 'children' had grown up. Sirius had run away, Andromeda had been disowned, and she herself had been sold into slavery under the guise of marriage. Those had been happier times but this house was still the dirty wreak it had once been.

A pop told Narcissa that Kreacher had reappeared behind her rudely. House Elves were trained never to pop up behind humans as it was an incredibly rude thing to do. Imagine someone apparating like that all the time, it would become infuriating. Turning to see him with a reprimand on her tongue, Narcissa was gifted with the sight of Kreacher in a low bow. In all of her memories of the ghastly _thing_ she had never seen him bow that low to anyone except maybe Mrs. Black's feet.

"The Lord and the Mistress are in the drawing room waiting for you" Without a word Narcissa nervously swept away, her long silver hair floating along behind her. Arriving at the drawing room door she stopped to compose herself before giving the door a sharp knock.

"Come in" The strong voice of Mrs. Black came through the door with a clear tone of impatience. Narcissa instantly turned the door knob and stepped inside as if she owned the house as she'd been taught to do as a girl. That was what her father had told her was the way Black's were meant to act and if she didn't she wasn't a true Black. As a little girl her family had meant everything to her, much as it still did, but in a more subtle way now.

Gone were the days she was devoted to her family with that fanatic gleam in her eyes. That gleam had died abruptly the same day she had been forced to marry her captor, Lucius. He was cold, bitter and sadistic towards her but at the same time he represented the same ideals her family had always held high. Purity of blood, the superiority of race, the simple pleasures of magic, that's what her family had stood for to her and when Lucius had been those things and worse to her she had had to change what her family should stand for if only to keep her sanity.

Now it was the _continuation_ of her pureblood morals, the family base itself rather than the blood which ran through it and the superiority of magic as an entity. There was a difference, though now it was much more subtle and refined compared to her cousins and even her sister Bellatrix who she had missed for years. Narcissa had wondered for years what had happened to Bella- but she doubted she would ever find out, though her Lord seemed to know something.

"My Lord, I have come to ask for my divorce from Lucius Malfoy and to be brought back into the Black fold."

"Narcissa, come sit down" Mrs. Black said somewhat pleasantly. Narcissa found that very strange, a few years ago it would have been a flat out no but now she asked Narcissa to sit? What had changed Aunty Aprus so much? Narcissa paid closer attention to her surroundings.

Harry was sat at a desk with a quill and an ink pot out while paper was kept to the side. Mrs Black was standing with chalk in hand next to a large blackboard which Narcissa had never seen in this room before. She assumed it was a work of transfiguration and from its lustre Narcissa assumed it was made from some sort of quartz? Looking around for a seat she found only a desk chair and an overstuffed sofa. Choosing the overstuffed sofa Narcissa sat down.

"Isn't it a bit early to be teaching him how to read and write?"

"Not at all, Narcissa. Harry is an exceptionally smart and he already knew his alphabet. I'm teaching him how to read now." She gave Harry a rare smile and Narcissa had to stare for a moment. Eventually her shock turned to a smirk, Harry had become his Mother's son it seemed, able to melt hearts with a glance.

"He gets it from his Mother I'm sure, James never was much of a learner." She said that in the most polite way she could. She hated James with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, but she dare not talk ill of him in front of Harry in case he didn't like it. Aprus gave her a look which told Narcissa exactly what she thought of that particular remark.

"Yes, well, be that as it may. Harry, we have Lord Business to talk about. Narcissa, you want a divorce explain it to him." Narcissa looked into Harry's eyes for a long moment. Her original idea to talk to him like a three year old was quickly becoming less realistic as she saw that his eyes were much more intelligent she remembered how they had turned black not weeks ago.

"Do you know what a divorce is Harry?" He nodded slowly "Tell me what you know about it."

"I can grant you a divorce from your husband…" His little eyes closed for a second before they reopened, ebony black. "Lucius Malfoy, a convicted Death Eater as of a short while ago… yes?"

"Yes. If you know what a Death Eater is then you should know what he is like. Did I tell you I have a little boy Harry? His name's Draco. He's about your…"

"Draco Malfoy, Son of Narcissa Black Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy, born a few weeks before I was, yes he's half a Black." Narcissa was disturbed that Harry somehow just knew that but she did know that he had connections to everyone with at least half Black blood and magic. Most Lords never had that much information on hand though; Harry truly was a magical prodigy.

"Yes, Draco is my son and he's about your age, a few months older than you. If you divorce me from my husband we'll come and live here with you and you and he can be best friends."

"Hmmm."

"Harry," Mrs. Black interrupted Harry as he was thinking it over. "if you do give Narcissa this divorce it'll mean the we'll owe the Malfoy family money. A fifth of the Black vaults." Those Black eyes turned their icy, penetrating, gaze towards Mrs. Black now in what looked to be a thoughtful expression.

"My Lord, I beg of you- let me have my divorce from Lucius. Lucius will make Draco become like him- a Death Eater"

"Is Draco not the heir of House Malfoy?"

"Draco is…" Both Narcissa and Aprus were confused at Harry's odd question but Narcissa was the one to answer him.

"Then I propose that we move for Lucius to be given the kiss." The two Black women were shocked. "With no Lucius, Draco becomes Lord Malfoy at his sixteenth, does he not?" That tone and those eyes began to strongly remind Narcissa of her father's cousin, the previous Lord Black. "Then we take back the money it took to divorce you."

Mrs. Black was shocked to hear a plan so cold and calculated come from the mouth of a child no older than three. How on earth had he connected those dots and come up with that conclusion? For the first time, but not the last, Aprus Black shivered because of Harry Potter, her Lord Black.

"You are granted your divorce" The magic's tying Narcissa Black to Lucius Malfoy fell apart in a whirl of silver and black magic. "Bring Draco here and you will be in the service of your Lord until the funds you owe House Black are paid back either through your personal endeavours or through that of your sons. You are both children of Black House now." Those Black eyes gave way to allow for the vibrantly green ones. "May I be excused please? I think I could feel Sirius waking up." When Mrs. Black nodded dumbly Harry got up and all but skipped out the door.

"What is he?" Narcissa asked staring at the door he'd left the room through. She turned to look at an equally stunned Mrs. Black who was still staring at the door.

"I don't know but I don't think it's human whatever it is" She turned away from the door to talk to Narcissa "So how is Draco?"

"Quite well actually he's…"

* * *

Hermione watched the dusk sky with a rueful air. She was returning home, or rather to her Great Grandfather's home, with her Mother and Father from England. Hermione had just spent her first year in boarding school, which was not a pleasant experience.

When she'd found out that her Great Grandfather planned to send her to a Muggle _all-girl's boarding school_ she'd frantically tried to find a way to get out of it. From whining to her parents to trying to use Legilimency to get her way she'd found no way to actually convince them that she did not want to go away. Unfortunately she hadn't wanted to damage her parents and Dorian, as she'd began to call him mentally, had defences so foreign to her own methods of attack she simply didn't know where to start. In the end she had given up and gone to the London boarding school.

At first she'd found it nice. The girls were nice and tried to make friends with her right away, she'd tenuously accepted. The teachers were a bit strict, but altogether they were alright enough. The food too- was alright, careful cuisine and a bit posh for Hermione's taste in food but still it wasn't something you'd write home about to complain. But that was where the pleasantries and polite comments had ended.

First and foremost the syllabus was far too dull for Hermione's tastes at first. Most of the other girls cried a lot about home or didn't know how to read at her age-level, so the teacher that was assigned to them had had to start from the basics, reading and the school being a home away from home. But even with the teacher's guidance, Hermione was still comforting girls as they went to sleep in her dorm.

Then there was the fact that it was simply far too early for children to be in a boarding school of _any sort_. Really- Hermione could sort of understand why her parents had sent her away- but these girls? These girls simply weren't equipped with the capabilities it took to be away from home. Naturally Hermione shouldn't have been either- but because of her predicament she was far less dependant on her parents. In her first year of Hogwarts Hermione had found life away from her mother unbearable. How some of these girls found it possible she didn't know.

There was also the fact that this school wasn't a primary school or anything quite so dull. It contained girls right from first grade to graduating with a total population of around 300 give or take about a fifty students with about 11 or 12 students a class. Because of the classes small sizes the teachers could spend more time on individual students and therefore the marks were always largely better than the State version. But the fact that so many students were such different ages separated and isolated them into groups, making girls who didn't make friends straight away incredibly lonely.

And even though Hermione had made friends she still found some of the girls utterly unbearable. These were the richest, almost royal, children from England and a few from out of the country. Quite a few of them had the bossy and manipulative natures to match. You could see it in the way they almost ordered everyone but the teachers around. And these were five and six year olds.

But by far worse than any of the students was the Headmistress that Hermione had come across several times. She was a nose held high sort of woman with those huge shoulders padding that you only got in the 80's. With a mousy-blond hair and a severe face, Headmistress Dayna Doctor was ugly as well as a mean.

Hermione had at first come across her when her first teacher, Mrs Bowan, had surprisingly sent her to the Headmistress and told her to wait for her there. Hermione hadn't understood why, but she had gone where she knew the Headmistresses Office was and had appropriately waited outside. So when the Headmistress saw her standing there, looking down as it were at the time, she had naturally assumed that Hermione was in some sort of trouble and had all but yelled at Hermione to go into her office and wait while she went to get Mrs. Bowan, muttering under her breath about new blood while she did it too.

When she'd come back she'd been all happy smiles and proud glances, which had served to confuse Hermione, just a little. She'd told Hermione that she was ready to go up in the class and that she was eligible to trial a higher grade. Hermione had seen Mrs. Bowen's humiliated glances at Hermione and further her sweating brow. It was fair to say Hermione did not like her Headmistress from the start.

From Mrs. Bowen's class she'd gone to Mr. Taggart's class. After not a month of his class, again she'd been sent to the Headmistresses office, this time with a note. Unlike last time she had been in her office and had called Hermione in. She'd been all sad faced and sympathetic, Hermione guessed that she expected that Hermione had not been found smart or capable enough to be in the higher class. When Hermione had given her the note the sympathy had fallen away like a mask and in its place was frustration. That quickly turned into happy smiles again- but Hermione had seen the underlying frustration Mrs. Doctor had felt.

From Mr. Taggart's class she'd been put in the burly Ms. Kruse's class and the next time she had been sent to the Headmistress' Office she'd comically frowned at the note. From Ms. Kruse they'd put her in Mrs. Calabrese. And there, with Mrs. Calabrese, they had given up on her.

Instead of moving her from class to class every time she showed she was competent in class subjects, they simply focused on the maths and sciences she didn't know already because of her time at Hogwarts where she would have otherwise learnt them. All of these topics were well above anything they taught in the junior parts of the school and sometimes above the students at the senior end of the school.

Unfortunately for Hermione, this had the predictable consequence of making her a subject of ridicule amongst her 'peers'. Even the senior school found her awkward to be around because of her size to intelligence ratio, as she had started calling it to freak people out more. Hermione forced herself not to mind it, she'd always been in the limelight at Hogwarts for her intelligence and best friend so she'd learnt to deal with it. Her toughened life outside of school had also made her something of a fortress against the powers of mere rumour and gossip- but deeper down it still hurt her. She was human after all- wasn't she? She wasn't completely isolated from human contact- was she?

Hermione sighed as she watched the sky pass over head. Her parents were off looking at the passage waters, the waves for some reason fascinated them. Life was getting harder and more complicated as time went by. She still remembered, in vivid clear pictures and sounds, how things had been as a child and now she wished it was still like that. School this year had been hard for her.

But that wasn't to say that it had been overwhelming, because it hadn't- not really. Things had gotten a lot easier when she'd sent her owl off to Fred and George. The interaction and the knowledge that they were all safe had been a blessing. Especially finding out that Harry was fine and living with Sirius had been a spirits booster.

She'd been worried when she'd found him that night, frozen in those transfigured scraps. The way he'd talked, how he'd cried, what he'd had to say about watching his parent's deaths had been heart braking. That older sister worry and heart braking sympathy hadn't left with him either. But something else had been wrong that night.

Something about that night had made Hermione feel like he was going to die. That what he was about to do would kill him. That feeling had left her in quiet despair for quite some time. Luckily it looked like he hadn't- but it was still a bit too much for her to bear at the time.

And then there was talking to Ron. Ron and she had had quite some issues after Hogwarts had fallen. First his parents had died, then Hermione's had died and then they were all fugitives on the run. In about a week her romance with Ron, which had lasted for about six months prior, had had been snatched away. Their letters became coded, they became more and more depressing to read until finally all they sent each other any more were confirmations that they were alive at all.

In her final letter to Ron, days before she defended that family and died from it, she'd told him what she needed to say- that they weren't ready anymore for a relationship- that things couldn't work in their conditions that she couldn't bear for one of them to be used as bait for the other. So she'd broken it off with him before she'd died. For a while, as she'd hovered around, watching Harry and Ron alive and running, she'd wondered if she had somehow stolen Ron's right to grieve for her as a girlfriend rather than a best friend. She and he had never talked about it while they had been spirits, but Ron's remark at the end of her birth had rekindled her hope for them.

She'd meant what she'd written about being ready for Ron. She wanted to be with him in this world forever like they should have been in the last, and hopefully with her advantages and skills that she could never have dreamed of having when she was six before- they'd have a chance at that forever, together.

She was still somewhat dubious as to the nature of this world though. Things were changing in amazing, unpredictable and apparently unrelated ways. After years of thought and careful analysis Hermione could not think what exactly had led her Great Grandfather to her. Where had she effected that change? How had that change affected other things? Where were those changes changing things now? The chain of infinite change was impossible to track and she knew it. From that moment on she'd changed the world dramatically. And she knew she had to further change the world.

She was such a hypocrite, she knew. She had told her friends that they should watch their every change of this world and then she'd gone and changed it so much herself. As it was she wasn't even sure if she would even be going to Hogwarts anymore.

Dorian had repeatedly told Hermione's mother it would be best to send Hermione to Beauxbatons where he repeatedly told her there was a better atmosphere and repeatedly told her that Hermione would be treated like a queen. Hermione guessed after his fourth attempt that he assumed that her mother would want her to be treated like a queen while Hermione knew that Jane and John Granger were firm believers in hard work. It also annoyed them to no end that kept pestering them with it like they were gullible children. Hermione guessed, and hoped, they would be stubborn and send her to Hogwarts rather than Beauxbatons.

Thinking about girls like Fleur and those Beauxbatons girls Hermione suddenly got a flare of comprehension. Her current boarding school was a lot like what the girls had said Beauxbatons had been like- what with the fancy ooh-la-la and whatever. Hermione imagined in horror if she would have become one of them had she been found the first time. She wondered if Dorian actually wanted her to be that way. Hermione watched for a moment as the dusk became just a little darker before her mind turned, as it often did these days, to the future.

The way things were going at school, academically, she should have finished past high school before she even reached Hogwarts. If she worked hard she could probably demonstrate the ability to go to university before then too. With the information she would have then she could start right away on working through Arithmancy and possibly into deeper spell creation. The spells she could make from there would help greatly in the war, especially if she found a way to keep them secret.

Then there was the fact that Voldemort was a spirit right up until fourth year. She could manipulate spirits- it was her ability, she'd learnt through Dorian. At first he'd tried to be really subtle about it, then he'd incidentally tried to lock Hermione into the Graveyard with the ghosts. When she got out she confronted him and he'd spilt like a can of beans under the assumption she would not tell her Parents. Of course she hadn't told them- but that was out of common sense- not because of Dorian's machinations.

Hermione was startled out of her day dreaming by a rough hand wrapping around her mouth and another grabbing her arms behind her. Instantly her senses came to life and she fell back into Wartime mode like a second skin. Analytically- she first made a mental scan over what she could gather about this man holding her. He smelt dirty- like booze and smoke, he was trying to drag her away, and not doing a very good job of it, and he certainly wasn't her father. In an instant her eyes changed to see magically and she picked out that this man was in fact Magical from the purple and sickly orange glow of his hands.

Making her decision in the second that came after first her mental scan and then her magic eyes, she stamped her foot where she guessed his foot should be based on his stance and balance. Now for an ordinary child of Hermione's stature and weight that would not, in fact, do anything to an attacker of this ones approximate weight and build. In this case, unfortunately for the would-be attacker, Hermione gave her foot an extra bit of force with the aid of a touch of magic and accidentally a bit of lightning too. This had the effect of not only smashing the man's foot, breaking several bones and crushing his toes but also burning his skin and giving him a high voltage electrical shock. He let go long enough for her to wrestle free of his grip.

Hermione, unwilling to give the strange man a second look, ran as fast and as hard as she could to her parents, whom she knew to be much closer to the end other end of the boat. She felt magic flying around her but she only dodged them, keeping out of the purple and red beams of magic, as a retaliation might give her ability away and could be in breach of the code of secrecy. Thinking all this Hermione ran as fast as she could to her mother who was being held by a man in blue robes.

"Stay back, little girl, or your mama will surely be hurt by this pretty wand." His tone and accent were clearly French to Hermione, but she didn't react to his jibe. Her eyes instead darted about, looking for her father. Not finding him in the immediate vicinity, Hermione's focus was on her mother. When Hermione merely glared at him instead of bursting into tears the stranger's face hardened considerably.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Hermione's mind was trying to think up the easiest and least dangerous method of extracting her mother, father and self off the boat and away from these men.

"Hush little girl, this is just a message to your Great Grandpapa. Be a good little girls and tell him that we want business with the old man- from the Hardy Brothers" With that he threw Hermione's mother at her and popped away. Who were the Hardy Brother's? What would they want with her Great Grandfather? What did her Great Grandfather do business in? Hermione's distrust in her Maternal Great Grandfather sky rocketed significantly.

* * *

**End Chapter**

**A/N: **Several people have made comments to tell me that my French is bad. Sorry to tell you- my French is atrocious. I know very little about French and I'm sorry for anyone who's upset about my lame attempts. If you know how to translate English to French- I'd be happy to hear from you. This chapter, and the updates of several chapters before this, is all thanks to my Proof reader, cucullen9. Give him a clap in the reviews if you would. Also, I got a PM about my bad guys; wait up ok- they're coming soon! Keep the reviews coming!

Next Chapter: **Draco Black and Meeting Up with Friends**


	10. Draco Black and Meeting Up with Friends

**Disclaimer – **The world of Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I make no claim to ownership. I do own the plot though, so no touching!

'**Parseltongue**'

'_Aviantongue'_

/mind speech, human to human/

/-mind speech, human to other-/

"Normal speech"

**Lost Time**

**Chapter 10**

**Draco Black and Meeting Up with Friends**

* * *

Draco Black watched his Lord with what could only accurately be described as anger. He'd learnt early on, from his first memories to be honest, that his Lord came first and he came second. The Lord got to play while he had to sit through classes from his Great Aunt Aprus, The Lord got anything he wanted from cousin Sirius, Nymph only played with the Lord, The Lord this, The Lord that, The Lord the lord the lord THE LORD. 

His mother would beg the Lords forgiveness its true, for Draco was only a child, if she were to find such hatred within her son for a boy she was deeply indebted to of course, but she didn't take to reading her son's mind. Harry wasn't usually above that sort of effort, but he was usually much to preoccupied generally with this and that which happened to be happening with Sirius. If only someone had had the foresight to monitor the boy and his behaviour. Sadly enough no one did and the hatred growing in the young child's stomach was beginning to turn malignant and spread. Not that he knew that.

In his clouded state of anger, Draco couldn't even remember one good thing about The Lord. Everyone liked him better, well- except maybe his mother. Draco always knew that his mother loved him- it didn't stop her from being nice to Him though. She obviously didn't love him enough.

From that moment on Draco Black knew he would always hate Harry Potter.

* * *

**Roughly Three Months Earlier- 1986 July 31st**

Harry stared at the letter in front of him with tears in his eyes. He knew what it was, he knew who it was from and he could quite clearly read the front.

_To my dearest son, _

_Harry Potter_

Turning it over Harry saw the Wyatt crest, with a golden Eagle on a blue field- its wings spread wide and its head staring straight forward while surrounding it was a green snake which bit into its tale. Only magic would allow for the amount of precision in the wax seal evident and the multiple colour combinations needed to represent it accurately. Of course the Wyatt family chose Ravenclaw colours with Slytherin trimming- from what he already knew of the family they were a Slytherin family which preferred to be seen as Ravenclaw.

But such thoughts were a distant thought at the moment, hazy and unreal. What was real, frighteningly real to Harry, was that this was the last written record of his mother's thoughts or at least emotions towards himself. What had she wanted him to know, what were her last words to him? Harry didn't know because he had been so depressed he hadn't read her mind, but now he wished he'd read it from his mothers mind, to know what it would be about before would be a blessing. Not knowing was weighing heavily on his mind.

Taking a deep breath and desperately trying to keep his breathing steady and even Harry opened the yellowing parchment with tiny shivering hands. The waft of wild flowers struck Harry as he breathed deep what he remembered to be his mother's perfume.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you are reading this then I have died and quite likely so has your father. If your father did die within the next five years, as I must have for this letter to have passed to you, then you are alone in the world and I am sorry._

_I am sorry that I can't be there when you ride a broom for the first time, I'm sorry that I can't be there when you cast your first spell, I'm sorry I can't be there when you buy your first wand, I'm sorry I can't be there when you write home from Hogwarts, but most of all I'm sorry I'm not there explaining this to you in person. I'm sorry and even as I write this I hope that you never have to read this and I can burn it before its ashes can touch your hands. But for our family and your magic I have to write this and you have to know._

_You were born with so much potential, my beautiful baby boy, and from the moment you were born I knew you were special and you had a future. I dreamed for you. I dreamed you would blow apart the world with your magic, become what no one else has ever been before and one day be written down in the records as a true miracle of magic in the image of Merlin himself. I dreamed you might want to become the Minister- that you would go to exotic places and study mysterious magic. I dreamed you would marry well, as I have, and pass on your magic to a new generation; that you could show them the wonder of magic and its impossible realities. And with that potential I knew you could do these things._

_But that potential was not a fluke or the result of your father's good breeding and my magical power. That potential was given to you through the careful collective work of a hundred generations and not just from your father's side. Your potential is the work of my side as well. If you are growing up in the care of Sirius Black or Helena Lovegood they no doubt would have told you of my apparent ancestry but they are wrong. I am the youngest daughter of Aaron Wyatt, born Lilianth Wyatt, of the Wyatt line- Lord of the lines of Wyatt and Luther as his fathers and mothers before him who were the scions of Nimea Luther and Shoran Wyatt. The Line of Luther was once the line of Slytherin and the line of Slyther and the line of Slyth. The Line of Wyatt was once was Cyatt and before that it was Vencyatt and before that Ravenclatt and before that it was Ravenclaw. If the names or words sound unfamiliar to you ask Aunty Helena, as she will have undoubtedly named herself, and she will tell you. Through me you are the heir of powerful magic's which reach back throughout time and space. Rest assured that you are apart of the magical world beyond any measure of mere blood or gold but by magic itself, no one can take that from you._

_But you do have those things. It's so hard to imagine you grown up without me there with you, Harry. It's so hard to imagine you needing this when I could give it to you from my hands and mouth. But if you do need it I cannot allow you not to have it. The line of Wyatt has suffered enough in one generation alone, two is unthinkable. You were born as the Lord of Wyatt and you have the responsibilities handed down to you from your ancestors. What I know of our family there are three things most important for you to do as Lord. Marry well and in the interest of family first. Maintain the code of secrecy we have embraced for more than one hundred years. Add to the knowledge of the vaults, a sort of collective knowledge for later use. These three points are stressed because you are a Lord and as the Lord you have taken their magic, land, title and wealth, you owe them this much._

_Apart of your magic is expansive, my baby boy- my Harry. You have such power for a baby, such wondrous, raw, **powerful** magic. And for you I have gone to extremes to insure your power is preserved as such the gift it is. You have many gifts of varying rarity and strength. The total spell analysis is written for your future use in the vaults of the Wyatt line along with the magical inheritances of your ancestors and I. But I feel it is most important that you know you are a Parselmouth. You have a gift with snakes which was inherited from your Slyth blood and strengthened for generations after that name long died. You can speak it, you can read it, and one day you will be able to cast spells with it. Such magic lies in the vaults of your ancestors, I have faith you will learn as much of it as you can and strive to discover its secrets while you are young. I only wish I could be there with you to watch as you see magic's beauty. _

_Another home truth you need to know about me specifically rather than you or our line is that I am a dark witch. If you are in the care of your godfather, Sirius, he will have raised you to fear the dark arts and hate dark witches and it makes me shudder at the thought of that, but I cannot let him fool you to think I was a saint as much as it pains me to disillusion you. If you are in the care of Aunty Helena she will have raised you to see the dark as a safe haven of true righteousness- she will have raised you to see the dark as vengeance but it is neither. The Dark Arts are not about right or wrong, good or evil, safety or uncertainty, torture or pleasure. The Dark Arts is about freedom. That is why I followed them so closely. Freedom of power, freedom of rage, freedom of pleasure, freedom of feeling. I don't quite know how you'll accept these things at such a young age but I do know that one day you will grow to accept them. It runs through your veins to practice all magic both light and dark and nothing should be allowed to stop it. If you are unsure about the Dark Arts research them more closely- understand them- and make an informed decision. But make a decision yourself, wether you will or will not, neither is wrong but either can be right. Never allow yourself to simply follow an ideal blindly- that is what Light Wizards do and that is why Light Wizards fail in their short sightedness._

_Your father is a Light Wizard, Harry- and if you are reading this that is why I died. I married him to escape a side in the war which would have torn me apart from side to side and to seek the protection of a Light family. I married him in the hopes that I would be able to bear a child who was not shunned from the magical world in such a way as I have been. I married him because I wanted my apparent heritage to be a tiny stain on a pure robe of magical inheritance that could span for centuries as James' had. I never loved him, and as of this time I hate him. You see the Wyatt family lands are powerfully protected- your father's refusal to touch dark artefacts is why I could not persuade him to come with me there and I had to follow him to my death. I hold it against him even as I set my affairs in order. You may be left an orphan because of **him**. I can't forgive him that, I can't forgive him even as I sleep in his bed or see his face in yours. He loved you and he believed he loved me but that love got me killed and quite possibly him as well. Promise me you will at least research the Dark Arts and not follow your father blindly into the Light Arts- your heritage at least deserves this consideration._

_Harry, I want you to know what you face in the real world outside of the protection of your guardian. There are witches and wizards who do not see the world as innocently as I hope you see it now. There are those who are irredeemable and those who can still be helped. Lucius Malfoy is an example of such men and women who are irredeemable. He has chained his wife to him by the straddle and he will never change. Narcissa Malfoy is quite a different story. She once hated me, did you know? But I slowly changed her mind and thus she became my friend and ally. I trust her with my life and yours. If she is in fact still chained to Lucius I ask you unbind her for me, she doesn't deserve his treatment. The spells are in the Wyatt family vault but I distinctly believe the Black family has its own unique properties which are kept in the family, ask Sirius for more information._

_Sirius Black will be our secret keeper until we change it with Peter Pettigrew after a random amount of time. I have no doubt that Sirius would not betray us, but if you are reading this Peter must have. If the absolute worse has come to pass and you are with him or even my repulsive "sister" who I hope you now realise is not my sister by blood at all, then I pray you run. Run as far and as fast away from them as soon as you can manage. Find Diagon Alley and Gringotts, the Goblins will take care of you as I will make sure they must. You can find Diagon Alley in London by the Knight Bus. To find the Knight Bus go to a road and wave your hand and click your fingers like you are calling out for a friend. If you are with Petunia or Peter do so immediately. Don't worry about money or payment, just do it- the Knight Bus is friendly to children and will take you to safety._

_Watch Dumbledore- I don't trust him, but if you find it in yourself to be trustful be wary at least. No man is perfect and Dumbledore is no exception to that at least. I have left you memories and reasons to distrust him in the Vaults, choose for yourself._

_And Lastly- Harry, my love, my sweet baby boy- always remember that magic is the most natural and right thing in the world. It is everywhere in everything- even people who can't use it- and you have an intimate connection with it. Use that connection and use what you have. Ask your guardian to take you to your vault in Gringotts where the Goblins will help you, and learn as much as you can from the Wyatt Vaults. I love you and wish you a bright happy future, even if I can't be there to share it._

_Wishing you never read this,_

_Your Mother,_

_Lilianth Potter (nee Wyatt)._

Harry felt his entire being simply fall, crash to the ground. There was a horrible sinking feeling and Harry let the tears run down his face in hot tracks, unable to smear them and unable to deny just how much it hurt to think about his mother speaking those things to him as she wanted to and as he wanted her to. He wanted her here with him to show him the world and his magic and what he could do with it. But most of all he was angry.

He was angry at the world for letting his mother die, he was angry at his father for letting her die and he was angry at Dumbledore for placing him in the 'care' of his Aunt. His mother had so clearly expressed her wishes that he never go to his Aunt. If she had been so vocal in this letter was there any chance she wouldn't have been equally as vocal in her will, or even to Dumbledore himself.

And where was his father's letter. Where had he gone off to while his mother had been pouring out her heart on parchment to him. Where was the advice about how he managed the Potter Vaults? Where was the effort at all on James' behalf? Harry couldn't deny his father loved him, as he remembered that love, but in this state of mind he wasn't in much of a mood to remember that. He just didn't want to.

Turning away from the letter Harry looked at the owl which sat watching Harry. Seeing its distinctive markings reminded Harry to start thinking more clearly. Harry knew the bird type well, a Gringotts owl. Obviously his mother had left the letter in the care of the Goblins to be delivered by owl on his sixth birthday. That was a wise move on his mother's part considering the Goblins were notoriously honour bound in most situations and her apparent stance with them had been efficient from what Harry remembered. It had been just under six years since he'd last been to Gringotts after all- Harry didn't remember everything about it perfectly.

Deciding that the bird would probably want some sort of payment Harry grabbed a handful of knuts from his desk and offered it to the owl which merely turned up its nose at the offer and flew away. Harry found that slightly odd considering that most Gringotts owls shared the desire for profit with their owners, if in a more abstract way. But considering the fact that this was an honour bound agreement Harry saw the sense after a second and put the money back with his collection of assorted things he was supposed to use regularly at his desk.

Mrs. Black had exclaimed after Harry had so deftly picked up writing and most forms of art that she'd insisted that he use the master desk which had been passed down in her family. The desk had come with an endless supply of paper and an inkwell a fair bit larger than normal. She insisted he constantly be writing some officious looking letter so that when Sirius stopped taking majority of the family affairs then Harry would know exactly what he was doing. Harry had found the training as dull as bootstraps but had tried to restrain from complaining.

He found himself trying to stop from that often. The feeling that he had a right to complain about every little thing the Black family did, as if they were annoying subjects and not family had been overwhelming. Harry believed his ties which had developed to the Black family were beginning to influence his mind. And if his magic began changing his own rationality and thought processes… who knew what he could turn out to be. Before he might not have worried about it, but with the future so delicately balanced- it was just something he didn't want to tempt and push too far.

That was the main drive behind his indecision on what to do with Hermione's elixir. He'd received it through the Twins bags but he still just couldn't decide. From what the Weasley's had told him it had been, an experience- something not to be taken lightly. Wings for god sake! And if he changed things too much, if he should become so magically powerful that it began to overpower his sense of rationality and fairness? Harry didn't want to think about what he or even they could do to the world. Everything was just so frail and uncertain, especially with the current baffling inconsistencies in the timelines.

For instance, the fact that Mrs. Black was alive at all was a bit of a puzzle to Harry. Harry remembered, quite clearly, that she had died around 1985 and here she was walking around as clear as day and as alive as everyone else a year after that. She should have been dead already- though from what Harry didn't know. Somehow Harry's presence had saved Mrs. Black's life. The thought both disturbed and intrigued Harry.

If his mere presence could keep someone alive when they clearly would have died otherwise, what else was changing? What else was Harry shifting that never would have been shifted otherwise. All of his knowledge of the future relied on certain facts and as those facts slowly started to fade away… Harry was left with the same inconceivable moving possibilities that he'd once had before. He'd already died in such circumstances once- he didn't think he could quite deal with having to go through it twice. Death was not something Harry looked forward to anymore. Briefly Harry thought he smelt urine in the room, looking around for the source of the stench the smell dissipated and Harry was left to contemplate his surroundings as he'd done many a time recently.

Harry chose to contemplate such surroundings because they were simply so strange. Sirius had made sure that the room was bright, regardless of the fact that Mrs. Black had wanted to keep it in line with rest of the house's darker decorum. Bright blues and oranges, the colour of the sunset and sunrise- because Aprus would not abide 'garish' gold or crimson, danced about the room like a constant mixture of dawn and dusk to make Harry feel 'safe' among the Black family. That was Sirius' reasoning at least. Lining the walls stood nick knacks, assorted junk and toys on shelves, the likes of which were not dissimilar to those which had once lined Dudley's spare bedroom. The main difference, however, was that the books were used and the toys weren't broken, and of course the fact that all of these were magical.

Sirius had insisted that Harry be spoilt rotten of course, because that was the sort of parenting Sirius could hand out freely. After being released from Azkaban- and somewhat reconciling with his mother about the details of his childhood- Sirius' first act was to buy Harry chocolate. From there the gift frenzy had merely risen to new levels. For Harry's fourth birthday Sirius bought him his first broom, a Cleansweep 5 brand new off the shelves. One morning when Harry had woken up he'd found himself in a whirlwind of snitches. Another time he'd been ambushed by enchanted toy dogs which had tackled him and licked him rigorously. To say that Sirius lavished him was an understatement.

It wasn't that Harry was ungrateful for attention- he just didn't want so much of it. There was only so much someone wanted before it was just stuff. And it wasn't just the unrestrained gifts about Sirius' attempts to raise Harry that would have been detrimental to Harry had he been a normal child. At first he'd flat out refused to allow Aprus to teach Harry anything. Slowly Narcissa had persuaded him but it had been slow and he had still grumbled about it constantly- going so far as to sit in and grunt whenever he didn't agree with his mother's methods of teaching or thought the 'material' was too advanced for a child of Harry's age.

Again, that wasn't to say he wasn't right. The formal pureblood courtesies that Aprus drilled Harry in were a bit much and it was no wonder that she had produced Sirius' intense dislike for education and Regulus' whimpering obedience all in one generation. Harry thought it was fair to say that had he been raised originally like this he would have turned into a stuck up Malfoy with little to no effort on his own behalf.

Draco in himself was a puzzle of intrigue for Harry. He'd been taught immediately upon arriving that Harry was his better. Magically, politically and intellectually Mrs. Black had never given the boy a chance to prove himself in any way better or unique. Predictably this had been a source of resentment and would have grown to be unbearable had Harry not been aware and working to fix the problem immediately. He played games with Draco, tried to cheer him up and let him win things from Harry, gently trying to reassure Draco that he wasn't worthless or threatened by Harry. At first the work had been successful, but slowly it began to be less and less helpful. Harry feared one day Draco's resentment would simply explode into hatred like they had once shared before. Such enemies were not pleasant.

Taking a look at the parchment from the corner of his eye Harry decided to worry about it later- when fewer interesting things lay on his conscience. What to do about the letter, Harry thought, trying to emotionally remove himself from the situation and think logically. Well, logically, Harry couldn't just run to Sirius and tell him he'd gotten a letter from Lily. Sirius would want to read it and Harry had a sneaking feeling that the words within it would have a negative effect on him. Aprus was also out of the question. Though she was generally very good about it and kept her mouth shut about his mother- there was clearly no remorse in the fact that Lily had died. Furthermore Harry also saw her as aghast that Lily was the last descendant of Slytherin before she gave birth to Harry. That left Narcissa who Harry immediately decided upon telling.

Though she never said a word Harry had picked up on Narcissa's deep respect for his mother. She had been friends with Narcissa, Harry knew, but the reasons had always been a mystery to him and Harry thought it better that way. Many things about his mother's past were less than… wholesome and Harry did not doubt that such respect was merely the product of such facts and therefore he chose not to question it. What was obvious though was that she would probably barely blink at the idea that Lily was a Parselmouth and would remember to keep her mouth shut about it. Such were the benefits of releasing a displeased wife from a contract which otherwise constricted her beyond reason.

Harry thought on the consequences a second longer before making a move towards the door, almost forgetting the letter on his way out. It was midday and Sirius had already jumped him with his customary annoyingly large present which served no more point than to waste family money and allow Sirius a moment of childish glee. Thus it was with little fear that Harry walked the dark corridors of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

There was little that could be done to help the dark and gloomy nature of the house, that much was for sure. It had been roughly like this since one of the Ladies had commanded it to be so in a fit of depression brought on by the death of her late husband to the Muggleborn uprisings in the 19th century. Before then Harry supposed it might have been a particularly large home for the Blacks, but he was unsure. As it was Number Twelve was the residence of the Lord of Black and had been for the last six Lords previous to Harry himself. Such facts were the sorts of things Mrs. Black saw fit to educate Harry in, naming her ancestors with something akin to marvel and their deeds with reverence while all the while trying to instil these attitudes in Harry.

From his almost 9th sense of locating Black family members, Harry could tell Narcissa was in the library with Draco, teaching him various innocuous things from magical countries to music and reading. The sense was like a piece of black ribbon which extended out from him, entangling with foreign magic's and giving him an instant connection to anyone within his family. Thus he could find any family member with little to no effort on his half and little to no knowledge on their parts.

Walking into the library Harry waited patiently for Narcissa to notice him. She looked to be in the middle of a history lesson with Draco, teaching him about the Vela the Malfoy's were related to. It was a little known fact but one which was confirmed after Narcissa tested Draco's magic for magical inheritances. Draco had touches of the Vela charms and their enhanced temper along with a very strange ability to see things which he was not present for. The gift itself had no name but was a strange mix between the third eye and astral projection and would one day allow Draco to see things when his body was not at hand. Such a power had significant benefits for Draco and left Harry feeling unsure. If Draco could do that and he turned to Voldemort… there was no way to know what was private or not. Narcissa looked up.

"My Lord?"

"Can we please talk?"

"But Mummy, what happened after that?"

"Hush Draco. You can go outside and play with the broom Sirius bought you. We'll finish this later" Draco's bottom lip dropped but he did as he was told with only a small huff. Rising, from her chair after Draco had left Narcissa nodded to Harry. "What is it Harry?"

"I received a letter from my mother." The shock on Narcissa's face was pronounced as she began to assimilate the idea.

"How" She managed to stutter out after a moment.

"Apparently my mother at least had the decency to leave behind instructions for me once she had died and was unable to pass them along. Here" Harry handed the letter over with a little tug in his chest. It was such a personal thing to hand over. Narcissa took it with shaking hands before looking at it with a frown.

"Harry- I can't read this."

"Hmmm?"

"Harry, this isn't in English. Its just lines and patterns repeated over and over again." Wordlessly she handed it over to him in what Harry thought was determination. Why she should feel determined was beyond him at the moment, but he found he could safely ignore it as he looked more carefully at the parchment.

"Ahh, I see. My mother was in Slytherin for a reason. It's in Parseltongue." Concentrating harder on what was really there Harry saw a light tracing of what the words looked like to someone without his instinctive ability. They were actually quite pretty.

"Your mother wasn't a Parselmouth"

"Yes she was, apparently. And she was an heiress of the Wyatt line too. That's the general idea of what the letter says anyway."

"Wyatt line you say? But they're as old as- if not older- the Ministry. They went into seclusion a while ago and eventually they just stopped turning up like they used to, people assumed they were dead. And they weren't Parselmouths"

"Well apparently they were and mother was the last. I think it would be wise to claim my inheritance from Gringotts."

"Well as much as I would love to take you now, it might be a good idea to wait a while; I have some connections through Lucius who can give me an idea of what you'll be looking at. Some of the lines were nasty and there is a chance that you are not, in fact, the heir. Those families had many branches spanning across several continents."

"Ok. Where is Sirius?"

"He's out again, buying you something most likely" Harry kept his annoyance inside as Narcissa tried to treat him like she would Draco and a Lord at the same time, as well as the inevitable annoyance of Sirius going too far with another stupid gift. Instead he pasted on a predictable smile and walked out of the room leaving a confused Narcissa behind him. Not that that was unusual.

* * *

Harry stood, somewhat glum, in the darkened vault- alone. The fact that he was alone wasn't really that surprising. Only someone who carried the Wyatt name or was born from Wyatt blood could enter the Wyatt family vault and therefore Narcissa could not enter. She had understood the reasoning and accepted that. The fact that he was glum was a bit more complicated. 

Narcissa had done some digging and had found some nasty rumours and reports on the family Wyatt. Most of them predated the 18th century and most of them were sketchy reports, which sounded more like rumours or the rumours of rumours, recorded in the very back of the Ministries most boring and annoying archives. One 'report' said that a Wyatt family member of some description had been seen with using strange magic which had blinded the reporter. No more detail than that had been given but a lot of speculation had been written down as to where the Wyatt family was keeping record of their strange magic. There were also cases of families reporting their children missing and later they turned out to be married into the Wyatt line. Harry didn't like the implications that they had stolen people and married them without consent. Furthermore Narcissa had found a case where the Wyatt family was accused of cursing the ears off an entire room of Wizengamot with a spell which had made them irreplaceable. So it was that Harry was glum, with a family which apparently practiced the darkest of the dark arts and quite possibly was stealing people against their wills, Harry could hardly be blamed for not being ecstatic with the idea of seeing what they kept in their Vault.

Deciding that it would be nice to be able to **see** what was in the vault Harry muttered an ambient lighting charm which struck the walls of the vault with a blue sparkle. What Harry saw immediately was quite different from what he'd imagined. Hundreds and hundred of books ranging from the size of his palm to the size of his old adult body sat on book cases which raced up to the ceiling far above that sparkled blue with the aid of Harry's charm. Harry gasped as he saw, literally, the magic of the Vault begin to move into action like a cat stretching its legs. Paying close attention to the whiz of colour and light Harry saw that it was… cleaning the vault?

In fact the books straightened before his eyes, acquiring a silvery opaque glow as what Harry could only guess were preservation charms mixed with restoration charms kicked in and began to revamp the books to their previously clean states. Cobwebs blew apart before his eyes and dissipated without trace. The air around Harry freshened noticeably, leaving behind the slight scent of… marshland in the air for some bizarre reason with scents of fresh water. The smell wasn't particularly pleasant but it was fresh- which seemed to contradict Harry's senses that it was marshland. Harry wasn't sure he liked that the magic had kicked in so quickly and was cleaning at such a rapid rate- it felt so unnatural for magic to simply jump like this.

Harry felt the tug around his chest as his own magic was drawn into the vault. Green, Violet, Red and Black began to dance among the previously glowing green magic of the vault, more clear and real than the magic around it- a separate entity entirely. Harry guessed then what this magic was and why it was reacting so strongly. Aaron Wyatt had died as the last Wyatt Lord some time ago and since then the Vaults must have been decaying in the absence of magical input. Harry could see that and Harry could also see that the use of his magic might have triggered the rest of the previously asleep magic in the vault. Even as his mother had come in, she wouldn't have been able to re-awaken the magic as she wasn't Lady Wyatt at the time. The idea that this magic had waited for so long comforted Harry's own ideas of how magic should react- of course it would be eager to move about again- and he began to feel a modicum of comfort in the Vault.

Deciding that the books weren't going to go anywhere and wanting to see exactly what else was in here Harry began to look around. The books, strangely enough, were at the very front of the enormous room, hiding the treasures beyond. There was the usual pile of gold and silver, as Harry had already seen in the Potter family Vault in his last life, but along with those were precious and semiprecious stones. Emeralds, diamonds, rubies and sapphires were piled as high as the gold in what Harry remembered was meant to show the relative unimportance of both money and jewels, it was an old custom Harry had only ever heard of- but apparently Wyatt followed that line of thought. The semi-precious jewels were the ones Harry was more interested in though. A Diamond had certain abilities when used in magic, but not nearly as much as amethyst or even jade which were the principle cornerstones of gemstone magic. On closer inspection Harry saw that many of them were in fact extremely good quality. Perhaps there had been a geomancer in the family at one time or another? Among the jewels Harry found a box which looked quite… well- guarded. The silver magic tracing around it spoke of pain for anyone not a Lord of Wyatt, from what Harry could guess it was. Deciding to leave that there for the moment, Harry continued to look around.

There were quite a few family heirlooms, clearly marked for later use- which Harry found nice for a change from the Potter vaults which had merely had a sign: "Use at ones own risk". They stood alone amongst the Jewels in what could only be described as a separate field of magic which maintained them automatically, without the input of Lord Magic. Family creations which had been passed down for later use- including, bizarrely enough, a suitcase-, a few relics of the Slytherin age- most notably a pair of daggers with emerald hilts-, and quite a few relics from the time before that; to group them into their respective time periods. Interestingly the older relics were cleaner, better kept and better preserved than those which had come from the Slytherin age. Harry guessed from the look of the spells which had kept them there, and their more defensive nature that these had been recovered after several of them had been stolen or lost.

Taking a ring, which was distinctly calling to him, and putting it on his right hand he felt the Vault give a sort of sigh and a tie was forged between himself and the magic in the room, more intimate than before. Reading the note which had labelled it he understood that this was the Wyatt Lord ring, a symbol he was to use as a connection to his family. It wasn't unusual for such rings to exist, but as of yet Harry didn't think one existed for the Potter line and had not heard of a Black ring yet.

Feeling a slight twitch in his hand he turned to see a new door there where none had been before. It was strange but considering he'd just put on what equivocated to a master ring Harry didn't think it was particularly unthinkable. The door was made of stone much as the Vault doors had been with much more intricate designs which clearly spelt the words "Lord of Wyatt" to Harry. Deciding to check Harry saw the same lines underneath the words which suggested it was in Parseltongue. Taking a slight breath Harry prepared himself and walked through the door.

**'Welcome, my Heir…'**

* * *

Hermione sat in the carriage, held closely by her mother and as her father watched with haunted eyes, whilst they rode the last of the way to her Great Grandfather's manor, the ancestral home of Hermione's long and distinguished family line. She could only describe the anger she felt towards her Grandfather as a fiery passion of malicious intent she planned to take out on him for his apparent 'business'. She hadn't been able to remember anything from Ron's letters about Dorian being some sort of crime lord, but that was what they had been getting at, those men- it was the only sort of business that she could think of which would involve endangering her family. Such were the 'messages' of crime lords or potential underlings. Her hatred of her grandfather knew no bounds. 

She was tempted to simply obliviate her parents and send them to their rooms before confronting her Great Grandfather, but then thought better of it. There was less chance he would attack her with magic if they were there and as of yet, Hermione was still unsure of exactly how strong Dorian was. Given his age and apparent business she could only assume he would be something of a challenge. But then again- Hermione had always loved a good challenge.

As the carriage stopped and her father's glassy eyes began to clear, Hermione found herself more than a little concerned to notice he was pulsing with some sort of light. It was, perhaps, her empathy at work- but for some reason she was seeing emotion now? Hermione found that odd- but what with being a necromancer, one could learn to brush off such distractions. She had a war to fight, and it was not the war with Voldemort that would break out in approximately ten years time, if the timeline had not changed irreparably.

Such thoughts were not allowed to enter her mind as she stepped out of the carriage and watched her mother do so also. She would not allow her growing unease with the world distract her from what needed to be done and needed to be done now. As her father stepped out of the carriage and grabbed her bags from the back she began to charge towards the door, with careful- deliberate- steps. Her Gryffindor side had never died but it had faded slightly to give way to a cool hard logic and efficiency she had seen only in Professor McGonagall outside of herself. No sound echoed from her feet as she made her way to the front door and pushed it forward heavily, overwhelming the House-Elf magic in the door with a short sharp burst of magic she pushed through her hand and into the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dorian asked as he approached.

"I was about to ask you the same thing, Great Grandfather. The Hardy Brothers decided they wanted to send you a little message, which involved roughly holding mother hostage!" Her magic was whipping around her now like flickering lightning bolts or snapping books.

"The Hardy brothers? Hmph. A poor pureblood family which occasionally tries to drudge themselves out of it by manhandling people, they are of little consequence Hermione." Hermione could practically see his lies rolling off of him in waves of distrust and secrecy.

"Liar. What is your business, Great Grandfather?" She all but hissed at him this time. His eyebrows rose first in surprise and then fell again in a frown.

"Clearly they were delusional. Mental instability runs strong in that family."

"Clearly you're lying to us" This time it was Jane who retorted and left Hermione to watch Dorian with a great deal distrust and seething hatred. "Either you tell us and we decide wether or not to stay or we leave now. Hermione's already been made Lady Volonté, she is already your heir- all she needs now is your training to take over the family with what you want in mind. If I remember correctly- she can choose to ignore that- can she not? If we leave"

"You wouldn't dare"

"Watch us. Come on Hermione, John" Jane took a hold of John's hand and turned around to walk out of the house, Hermione obediently following. She knew this was a ploy of course- but Dorian didn't and even if he did he couldn't take the risk. Hermione liked this side of her mother as she thought about its implications.

"No- wait!" Jane did not turn, she merely stopped while Hermione and john followed her lead. "I used to distribute potions to less than… stellar causes."

"I'm listening"

"One of which was a complicated potion which the Hardy brother's could not make themselves, to change into another person. I stopped selling it to them as I needed the time to teach Hermione and to brew the potions she needed for her abilities but once she was gone I didn't feel the need to continue." Jane turned with a particularly nasty look on her face which Hermione had never seen on her mother in her previous life. It was one she hopped was never directed at herself.

"Is it correct to assume they are illegal?"

"Yes"

"Then you are a criminal? And you expect us to let you teach Hermione? After you lied to us?"

"I did not lie to you. I never said what I did before I met you and I hardly thought it was your business what I did."

"Just be glad Mother isn't here to witness this obscenity. So you brew illegal potions. What else?"

"What do you mean what…"

"I mean what else are you doing illegally?"

"Nothing" Hermione spotted the frown on his forehead. She correctly assumed Dorian was getting flustered which could only mean he had more to hide.

"Liar" Hermione said quietly. Sometimes- Hermione realised- it was more empowering to be behind the person who was attacking and not attacking someone yourself. That sort of thought was a strange one to Hermione as she'd always felt you had to be the one with the courage to stand up to be right. Maybe this was a different sort of courage, the courage to stand back and not interfere. Her rage was dying down slowly.

"What is it- Grandfather- what are you hiding from us?"

"I sell potions, that's all" Jane's penetrating stare was enough to finally crack Dorian and he mumbled in an undignified and indecipherable tone.

"What was that- Grandfather?"

"I might have a few connections…"

"What kind of connections?"

"In the ministry- Blackmail material mostly- favours owed to me. Business' I own and which owe me favours. Connections in the political arena that anyone in my position needs to _survive_."

"Indeed- I believe an arrangement can be made..."

* * *

Two bone crushing hugs and three sets of back-slaps later and Harry was beginning to doubt the actual depth of his friends' friendship and believe that perhaps it was just an unusual depth of sadism. He was puffed, he was sore, but most importantly, he was smiling as he hadn't in a lifetime. 

Hermione had arranged the meeting shortly after a brief issue with her Great Grandfather. Apparently he was now under heel and submitted to anything she required, which so happened to be going out in the middle of her holidays. Harry thought it strange but Ron and the Twins had explained later that Lord Volonté was something of a Crime Lord in his homeland and Hermione had found out about it.

The Weasley's seemed so very different from anytime he'd ever seen them before. All were wearing slightly better fitting clothes, fancier robes and looked just a bit better off. That, of course, didn't stop Ron from having a smudge of dirt under his left ear or the Twins from smelling outrageously of burnt fumes and what Harry recognised as gunpowder. Ginny was cleaner than her three brothers, but that was just to be expected, though her light green robes were a little more frayed than her brother's for some reason. Harry couldn't fathom why though. Despite the fact that Ron had wings and everyone in their gathering knew it, they weren't actually visible aside from what looked like a bulge on the back of Ron's robes.

"How are you mate?" He asked in that slightly worried tone he'd gone on to later use in his late teens and perfect at 19. The familiarity of the old look and tone were so unbelievably reassuring to the worrying nerves that Harry had had upon this meeting. It had been so long since he had seen them all that he was more than a little worried he wouldn't recognise them or they him. But that didn't show in him as Harry just gave Ron a lopsided grin before replying.

"Better than ever mate, you?"

"Good but I'll be even better soon" He playfully grabbed Hermione around the waste with a chuckle. Hermione quickly gave him a half hearted elbow to the ribs as her cheeks flushed pink. Harry couldn't help but let his eyebrow raise just a little at the sight. Their rather haphazard relationship had been something of deep regret to Harry in his past life. His friends happiness meant allot to him, and nothing would be better in Harry's eyes than to see them make each other happy. Before Harry had had doubts of course about their relationship, but for now he wouldn't indulge them. Before they had lived in a relentless war, now they might have a chance.

"Keep it to yourselves will you!" Ginny couldn't help but laugh as Ron keeled over from the elbow. "Score Hermione!" To which Hermione let loose a wicked grin. To Harry the smile was old and reassuring as Ron's tone, but it just looked alien on her face. That face was one worn smooth by some means beyond Harry's perception, but the grin he so remembered had been one touched with squinting marks, from her life reading in dark castles, while this one was immaculately smooth and clear.

"Sorry Ron. Let's find somewhere to sit down, shall we? Are you okay?" They were currently in the middle of Diagon Alley and several elderly witches were giving them looks which, to Harry's knowledge, meant that they thought all these children must somehow have gotten lost together. "We're getting stares"

"I'm fine" It was Harry's turn to start laughing at Ron's chocked guffaw. "When did you become so strong 'Mione!"

"Fortescue would be about the right place right now. No one would notice a bunch of children there" Ginny pointed out, looking around. Hermione helped Ron to a chair as they made their way over to one of the tables, gathering chairs and putting two tables together.

"I can't believe we're back here- without the wands pointed at us or the glamour charms I mean" Fred, amazingly, spoke with no echo afterwards. Harry couldn't help but think he looked too young. Hermione, Ginny and Ron were roughly his age so he was ready to see them roughly as young as he was now. He was not, however, ready to see the twins so young. He still had held some odd thought that they might look like he'd first seen them, thirteen and running through a brick wall. Harry let the amusement show in his face as he thought about that. If he was lucky he might even see that sight once more as the twins ran through good old Nine and Three Quarters.

"No one knows who we are here…" Harry cleared his throat with a smile "Well you know what I mean Gin, we're just Weasley's here and Hermione's just some spoilt rich kid…" Georges voice became laced with sarcasm for a second as Hermione's already flushed face took on a more plum tinge.

"Shut it!" Hermione all but shouted as Ginny slapped him upside the head. "Thankyou"

"Score for the girls" She stood up and gave Hermione hi five. Harry was finding it nothing short of hilarious while Ron looked torn between laughing and looking offended at the bout of male-bashing going on between Hermione and Ginny.

"If you're done,"

"With being children," Harry couldn't help but snort there to which he was given an approving look from Ginny and look which Harry identified as a playful death glare from Fred.

"Hypocrites" Ginny murmured as the twins set their eyes on Harry.

"Fred and I have a question to,"

"Ask Harry"

"How is the esteemed,"

"Padfoot?" Simultaneously they leaned forward, giving Harry cause to smile before his mind turned to the bitter subject. Padfoot had been less than perfect for some while but lately the issue had escalated. Presents were just the beginning of a downward spiral it seemed. He'd moved onto calling Harry "Prongs Junior" and trying to begin prank wars which Harry had ended rather than play along. To say Sirius' reaction to that had been bad was an understatement. He had literally held Harry in the air and tickle spelled him ruthlessly and told him he was being too serious, continuing onto laughing at his own joke. It might have sounded minor but at the time Harry had reacted badly too and given Sirius a concussion with a banishment hex. Mrs Black had not been pleased with her son since.

"He's turning into a psychopath" This immediately got Hermione and the rest of the Weasley's attention. "I think Azkaban might have scrambled him more than I'd thought, or exasperated a problem he already had."

"What problem?" Ginny's concerned tones made Harry almost flinch. He hadn't heard that tone since Tonks' death. Harry realised he hadn't wanted to hear it ever again. Painfully he was reminded that some thing were more than likely to happen again/

"Being too much of a spoilt brat" Harry couldn't keep the bitter snap out of his voice, not entirely. His emotions were bucking wildly beneath a cool surface Harry had long since built to show his usual emotions.

"Ok mate, now you're going to have to explain that one"

"He's just too childish, he spends a lavish amount of the Black fortune on gifts for Draco and I, barely talks to me, try's to throw prank after prank in my face and then expects that I'll fall head over heels in love with him for it. He was spoilt like that, I think, before he got into Gryffindor. Draco likes it, but he doesn't understand what's happening- not completely" At the mention of Draco Ron seemed to inflate just a little bit and Ginny's eyes lost their bright sheen. It wasn't said between them but Ginny had told him one night when they were alone that she and Ron had seen Draco at the attack on the Burrow, white mask and platinum hair cut shorter than Lucius.

"And how is the slimy git?"

"Surprisingly better than I imagined he would be as a child, though he's awfully jealous almost all the time. At least he doesn't expect everything to just be handed to him like he did in first year. Maybe that was a mask though? I don't know half the time honestly what to think of him." And he didn't. He tried to treat Draco like a completely new person, but when things that had been there in his first life came out Harry couldn't help but see the darkness the boy had worn and created around him like his father.

"The effect of Malfoy Senior's missing no doubt. Pureblood children have all these ridiculous rules and tests to go through. Draco probably would have grown up decently without him and I guess that's what we might be seeing. No offence Ron, Gin. But honestly- how is anyone supposed to grow up with… stuff hanging off them. Dorian never shuts up about the generations!"

"Well, that's the properly trained pureblood's Hermione. I'm not getting that stuff cause I'm not really a Black and already their Lord, but it's all implied. Can you do this quickly enough, think this situation through blah, blah, blah. It's no different than spoilt Muggle children get"

"Just magic is one more thing to worry about. Sometimes I wonder if Muggles have easier lives somehow." Ginny cut in with a grimace.

"And it's something you can compare in your,"

"Children."

"Exactly." Hermione added. "Like a magically powerful child is a medallion or award that the family can receive if they interbreed themselves well enough. It makes sense, and squibs would be the ultimate sign of a failing family. Dorian's probably a little wounded that his daughter was a squib still."

"So you think he's using you as some sort of… replacement? Blimey, that's even a bit twisted from the usual. You sure the gits not a little," He made a swirling motion with his hand around his ear, to which the Twins guffawed loudly. "bonkers?"

"Likely." She gave him a small smile before her face turned to a grim line and faced Harry head on again "But about Sirius, it might be worthwhile to send him to some sort of therapist Harry. I've read about people who went through the holocaust coming out of it with regressed emotions."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Harry couldn't help but ask, more than a little uncertain about himself.

"It just means that he might have gone backwards a bit, tapped into his childishness after Azkaban." Harry sat back heavily against his chair. Sirius' behaviour shortly before his death had sounded reminiscent to what was happening here now and thus he had thought that this was some sort of annoying character trait. But with a bit of consideration Harry realised the Dementor affects had appeared to recede around his fourth year, which would lead to the conclusion that perhaps Sirius was now suffering from what he had suffered then. If he'd seen it at the time, could he have prevented Sirius' death?

"It's probably for the best if you send him to a Mind Healer, Harry." Ginny cut into Harry's very confusing and slightly self condemning thoughts "There are some excellent ones around, mostly Muggleborn, but still excellent." Harry gave Ginny an odd look before slowly replying, his thoughts clearing and organising more readily for the shove from what Harry knew to be a bad track of thinking. He decided to change the subject to something he hoped would be more pleasant.

"And what about this talent you've got." She sighed rather largely and slumped slightly in her chair.

"It's been a bit of a mess to be honest. Mum got so excited about my ability but after the Ministry found out they've described me to be… what was the term Ron?"

"A national treasure"

"That's it." Her face turned up in a disgusted twist. "No one else in the country has the ability so they've jumped on me like a flock of birds on easy food."

"They sent out some wordy decree that her ability is a matter of public service and therefore a matter of ministry jurisdiction and that the improper use of something this important would be bad for the health of Magical Britain." Ron quated and stated to a shocked Hermione and Harry.

"What it all basically means I can't leave the country to attend a proper school for Healers just in case I get cosy there and decide not to come back; but they're refusing me entry into the British Healing Academy because you have to graduate from Hogwarts to do that. So now I'm all but labelled ministry property and no-one seems to know what to do with me."

"That's ridiculous. How on earth did the ministry find out?" Harry didn't know what to think about that.

"I suspect they've been watching our mail. It was only after Mum sent off an owl that they came around." Ron's voice was resolute and disappointed. "It makes a twisted sense after we caught Pettigrew with a natural Legilimens."

"We're trying to work out a way to convince Mum and"

"Dad that the ministry is watching our mail, but"

"They're both awfully naïve sometimes, especially"

"When it comes to trusting in people."

"Yeah, but you know Dad- he seems very trusting but he's stronger than meets the eye. You remember that time he got into a fight with Malfoy"

"Before second year…" Harry added to Ron's comment as strong memories began welling up from that time, it was so odd to have those memories so clear after so long, but they were there, along with the emotions to back them up. Harry reasoned his occlumency and habit of trying to remember the smaller details, cultured from a life lived in war, was most likely to blame. Harry shook his head and tried not to think upon it too heavily.

"And you know Mum's like a lioness when it comes to protecting us, even if that does make her into a bossy witch sometimes."

"You're right, of course Ginny, but that doesn't mean that Fred and George aren't right. We all know they're strong, but they're not very cunning, and cunning is what we need them to be to survive. And having their mail watched is not something that you need happening" Hermione added to hold off the beginnings of a pointless debate. Ron had been right when he had mentioned they had begun to pop up more after the potion. Not for the first time Harry wondered just what the full ramifications of that blast potion were.

"Enough about the Weasley's- what's Dorian having you do Hermione?" Hermione's eyes rolled in a way Harry had never seen them do before. It was a mix between her usual exasperation and some sort of dismissal. It troubled Harry slightly.

"The same as he was last week, Ron."

"I'm just worried Mione."

"I know, but must you be worried so often"

"I don't think I've heard the full story about this- someone want to fill me in?"

"It's nothing really. More of that pureblood study crap. Don't worry about it. What is it exactly that the Blacks have you doing, by the way?" Hermione's attempt to change the subject was excellent, and probably would have worked- had the Weasley's not been quite so focused on her and Harry been slightly more self centred. Harry almost chuckled- but settled for an amused smile; the irony was that the Blacks had been those which taught him exactly which turns of phrase could be used to politely change from one topic to another without giving too much away. It appeared that Dorian had not covered that particular topic, as of yet.

"This and that, but I'd be much more interested in what you have to say for your Great Grandfather." Hermione opened her mouth as if to reply when Harry raised his eyebrow and flicked his eyes at Ron and Ginny, both of which were watching her with raised eyebrows. Apparently they hadn't been fooled either and she realised that. the twins were watching a woman in a _**very** _tight robe walk by right at that moment, but alas- Hermione still had to concede to her friends worry. She sighed momentarily in disappointment.

"Can't get much past you can I?" Harry shook his head, still with his amused smile plastered on his face while something still ate at him inside. Hermione had always been the one to catch him in an attempt at misdirection: he'd never had to with her before. "Well, he's been training me in my new found abilities, like I told you Ron. But he's… starting something new and I don't know what. There's a level of smugness about it on his behalf too. I didn't want to say anything about it because I didn't have any information yet, but I have a feeling it's going to be more of the same intensity, if you know what I mean." The twins had reformed their attention shortly after the woman had walked by, but were now looking at Hermione with a level of concentration which they rarely employed. Harry had only himself seen it during their numerous experiments, but even then it was much more… light hearted.

"Hermione, I think it's safe to say that we understand the intensity of your Great Grandfather. Blimey, but that potion he made was ridiculous and quite enough for him to be getting on with. If the gits got plans for anything like that shit again I don't think it could be for much good." It was Ron who said it, but Harry had to agree. There was something going on with that man, andc something else was going on with Hermione. "The potion seems like quite enough of this… oddity to be done with."

"I have to agree with you Ron, but I don't think that there's much we could do until she has more information. What do you think it might be about? What more would he want to experiment on you about?"

"He's got all sorts of experiments going at almost all times. Recently I believe he has further hidden his results and thoughts, aside from those which I have been able to access in the past. I'm pretty sure he knows quite a deal of what I do. But really, there's not much more to do. But now I think I could safely refuse anything else he tried to put me under. I hold the reigns in the family after the bloody Hardy brother's dropped off some information."

"What happened to them, by the way?"

"Don't know, don't care- but they won't be turning up anytime soon. That's all Dorian told me."

"As in dead?" Ginny's curiosity was almost palpable on her face as she leaned forward.

"I doubt it, he should know better, not to mention Dorian doesn't have quite the edge necessary- but I'll see if I can't find out if it makes you feel better."

"I don't trust the man. He's just too fishy and he seems like a great git."

"He might be the greatest git in the world but he's my git and a very intelligent git to match. I can still use him."

"If you're going to use him- make sure you're the one using him and not the other way around. If he's as old as he is, I doubt he would have survived in the criminal world without basic understanding to manipulation and how to turn them around."

"Well, gents"

"Ladies"

"Now that we've caught up on the last little bit- Gred and I"

"Have an issue coming up that we rather think needs to be discussed"

"Hogwarts"

"Why on earth are you even considering talking about Hogwarts now? Even the two of you have more than 3 years to wait. Its 5 away for us."

"We have a lot of planning to do for it, that's all."

"Planning was useful before and it'll be useful now" Fred explained.

"And we have a few ideas that we think should happen…" The twins leaned in and it only took a moment for Harry to realise- Hogwarts was not going to be the same place it once had been.

* * *

In a small dark place, violet eyes stared listlessly at a featureless grey wall. The woman behind those once beautiful eyes did not move but to breath, and even that had slowed to its minimum. She could not die or pass out from lack of oxygen, the wards assured. Her injuries faded and passed with the help of numerous spells, but the injuries and tortures never ceased. She had been here for years, what felt like eternity, and she knew she would never escape this place, _could_ never escape this place. She was broken, had long since been broken by the nightmarish world she now knew all too well. 

Distantly she felt like she remembered another place, where the sensation of biting mice didn't scratch at her insanely as she began to fall asleep, where there wasn't this cold hard stone floor to lay on, where she had used her mouth in ways other than to scream and vomit in pain and anguish. She felt it, but did not truly remember. Those memories had faded in the midst of her agony. That place was gone from her now, her sanity torn, until all that was left was this dead- low thing in a featureless cell.

She wondered, in the cold darkness if this was how she had always been, if her torturers had somehow tricked her into believing that she hadn't always been here- that this was the grand torture of them all. Maybe if she could just give up the idea then they couldn't hurt her anymore. No, she had answered herself in a rare moment of lucidity brought on by fear and repulsion- she knew they would continue to hurt her; there was no doubt of that. She had long since dropped the notion that she could affect her captors in such a way as to help herself.

Limply she continued to lay as even those fleeting thoughts left her. And as if she had fallen asleep for once in these many years, her nightmare descended and Red eyes flashed before her. Bellatrix Lestrange screamed.

* * *

Remus fidgeted. He hadn't been out in some time, at least not in the Wizarding world and now that he was here he wasn't feeling all to up for remaining. People gave him odd looks no matter where he went, his shaggy hair, unshaved face and ratty clothes made many witches steer their children away in the reputable places. If they had known exactly what he was then perhaps they would do more than steer their children away politely. Remus tried not to let the thought intrude on him too much as it had for these past few years. 

When Lily and James had gone under cover he had been aware they didn't trust him. That was easy for him to detect from their scents alone. Well- maybe not Lily, her scent rubbed on his nose a bit with magic and odd potions so he didn't often get many more impressions of her than that she was a strong witch, but James scent was so familiar to him and had been like a beacon of fear and distrust. Looking back he realised that Peter- no, _Pettigrew_- had been afraid of him, but then again Peter was afraid of everyone. Sirius hadn't trusted him either had even gone so far as dislike him and for that Remus had judged him as the traitor. So wrong on so many accounts.

Remus was sitting alone at the Hogs Head- fidgeting with his hands under the table, mulling over why he was here with not a little fear in his heart. He'd received a letter from his oldest living friend, Sirius Black, to come to the Hogs Head for a meeting. To what Remus owed the meeting he had no idea, but he remained dubious as to the true intentions behind it.

There, a new scent entered the Hogs Head. One he remembered too well. It was a mix between wet dog and the sulphuric tang of his bad cologne. If Remus was honest to himself, even when he had thought Sirius a liar, he had still missed the scent and familiarity even the traitor could provide in a world without any of his friends. Remus looked up and found himself looking directly into the eyes of Sirius Black. The man he had once agreed to had been the cause of Lily and James Potter's death. The guilt was overwhelming and he froze in place.

Sirius just watched. Remus didn't know how to describe what the other man was doing. A part of him thought he was preparing himself, but the other thought it most likely that he was being summed up. His lack of judgement, his allowance of no trial, his compliance- all of these were worse than anything Peter had done, he reasoned to himself. At least Peter had done something. Inaction seemed so much worse, somehow.

And as Sirius began to walk closer Remus took a deep breath and built his courage. He was a Gryffindor- a Marauderer, he had a spine didn't he? If worse came to worse and Sirius didn't want to befriend him again then he could move on- he didn't know where, but he would just have to now wouldn't he. But he did owe Sirius, and himself, at least the decency to show up- which he had. It had been Sirius' idea to meet- therefore the ball was in the other mans court. Remus stood with as much courage as he could at the moment and reached to shake his old friends hand.

For a second Sirius just stared, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. In that second Remus' heart fell, but his hand remained steady, even if his shoulders fell with it a little a little. But he didn't have much more time to think as Sirius crash tackled the werewolf to the floor and quickly sat on the generally stronger man underneath him.

"Long time no see. How are you?"

"Fine" Remus replied, with not a little shock and lack of breath. "What the…"

"Time was my friend Moony could wrestle. I see your old age has gotten to you" The grin on Sirius' face could only be described as wolfish on that face- so 'Moony' replied in kind, neatly overturning his best friend and pinning him soundly to the ground.

"Not as much as yours has! Time was you could fight back" The laugh from beneath him was gleeful as he struggled and Remus used his ample werewolf strength to keep Sirius pinned to the ground. "How have you been you old dog."

"Better than ever…"A slight cough from behind made Remus turn to see what he could not quite believe. There- in front of him- stood none other than a 6 year old James wearing a Black robe and green eyes. In absolute shock Remus couldn't help but be turned over and pinned furthermore to the ground as his head connected painfully with a chair leg. "I see you've seen Prongs… Junior"

"My name is Harry you mutt. I'm guessing you're Remus Lupin, my father's friend?"

"After me, Prongslet!"

"Shut him up will you?"

"Hey!"

"If I could have managed that I would have years ago." Harry all but groaned before taking a seat where Remus had been seated. As Sirius got up off him and he stood up, Remus couldn't help but stare at the boy who was an exact replica of his father, messy hair and all. "He can keep talking through a silencing spell"

"I know; he just kind of… repels it somehow."

"It's my teeth. When I was in second year someone hit me with a misfired form of the Sonorus spell."

"I remember that. It was Lily and we hexed her blue for the next week after that" Remus and Sirius laughed uproariously. "It looked horrible with her hair. Though it did bring out her eyes rather spectacularly."

"Or what about that time when we were in fifth year and she hexed us all hairless for a month! Now that was classic."

"We did deserve it for changing all of her closer friend's clothes bright yellow" Remus' wolfish grin, the one he could feel growing steadily stronger and lighting his face, was only matched by Sirius' dogged laugh and guffaw. Looking at Harry briefly he was surprised to see what looked like annoyance. In fact Harry's face looked growingly annoyed before he cut into the conversation.

"I'm sure you did, Remus, but…"

"Call me Moony" A flicker of something crossed his face and for a second Remus could see Lily plain and clear. He had his father's face, that was for sure, but his expressions and perhaps his emotions matched his mother's much more. Remus- no Moony- could only think he was better off for it. Prongs had been an impulsive guy, and sometimes Moony thought it was that which had killed him and Lily.

"Moony, I'm sure you did but we can catch up on those issues later." He looked at his godfather for a moment before he turned his attention fully back to Remus. "I had Sirius contact you…"

"Hey! I was going to soon, I've just been very busy…"

"Shut it. Moony, I'd like to invite you to come and live with us."

"Well… I don't know what to say." Remus was torn between his unbelievable need to be with his friends again and his instinctual fear of himself and what he could do to a small child if he was living with them. Being bitten as a child had left him scarred and scared for life and thrown him into a life of lies and lonliness, the idea of inflicting it on another child was… unbearable and the majority of him felt that it was best if he said no. Well, it was more or less screaming for him to say no. But the other part- the selfish part- wanted his old life back with his old life and his old friends around him again. Remus wanted to listen to his selfish side, for once in his life just be selfish, but the fear was all encompassing. They put werewolf's down in Brittain if they bit children- or at least the ones they caught.

"Say yes"

"Does he know about my… condition, Padfoot?"

"There isn't anything Mr. Prongs Junior doesn't know! Mr Padfoot would like to invite Mr Moony to come live with us. I'll take care of you when your monthlies come" The wicked grin on Padfoots face was enough to convince Remus finally and with a smile he accepted.

"Sirius, go buy us some butterbeer to celebrate. Make sure they're clean mugs!" Harry's eyes followed Sirius for a moment before he turned on Remus again. In his eyes… Remus couldn't help but feel that neither of Harry's parents had ever looked quite like… that. "Now that you've accepted my invitation I have something else I need to ask of you. Sirius is sick. After Azkaban he's regressed emotionally to his Hogwarts days. What I needs of you is to make him grow up. I'm asking this of you specifically because even Sirius admits you were the most sensible."

"Sick? How?"

"He's mentally unstable and he's getting worse. I fear if he continues he could lash out and… hurt someone. I'll be sending him to a Mind Healer soon. But I hope to have a second method to progress him throughout his treatment. Your help would be instrumental to his recovery."

"How would you have me help him, exactly?"

"By being his friend, as he remembers them. Distract him from his problems, show him how to be responsible, be a role model. To be plain he needs as much help as we can give him and you're my best shot. Will you agree Mr. Moony?"

"Of course. But he seemed so normal…"

"He may appear to be normal on first glance, but this hyperactivity is not tempered with any form of introspection or quiet. He doesn't know how to act and behave like an adult, nor does he show any signs of whishing for it. You, I believe may be able to show him that. He's quite in need…. Sirius, thankyou."

"No problem, cub. To old friends!" Sirius raised his mug and Harry raised his. Remus just stared for a moment. Things were definitely odd with Harry, something was off- he was far too intelligent, seemed to know too much and too conniving to boot.

Harry raised his eyebrow at Remus in silent question and he raised his mug without thinking, almost automatically, before drinking the butterbeer in a large gulp with Sirius, like they had in the old days. _Where the hell did Harry come from_, he allowed himself to think, _certainly not James- perhaps Lily?_ He had never really known Lily as much as he'd have liked to but now he was wondering if he had known her at all. Silently he regarded Harry for a moment more before raising his glass to his lips and taking a deep gulp again. _To old friends and what they have left behind. _

* * *

**End Chapter**

**A/N**. Now some of you out there might be thinking, wow- that took a long time to come out. I make many, many, many apologies for that. It's been atrocious. Grade 11 was a nightmare and as far as I can see year 12 will only be worse. Not to mention I plan to be doing a first year Uni subject this year for my Bachelor of Engineering. To be plain, it was only the reviews and people's phenomenal support which kept this alive for me and I thank you all for reviews. I will try to keep this alive, but it takes a lot of work to keep up with and my Real Life comes first, unfortunately for the readers. Keep the reviews coming and thankyou in advance.

**Next Chapter: Before the Hogwarts Years **


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